


Sunshine and Madness

by PaperPuffin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: A lot of hurt but a lot of hugs, Angst and Humor, Asexual Character, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Demisexual Character, Fix-It, Good Dad Regis, He gets better, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Noctis has PTSD, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, Time Travel, like... seriously slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28903923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperPuffin/pseuds/PaperPuffin
Summary: Noctis had expected to die. He'd spent ten years coming to terms with the fact. But when Arydn led him on a chase through time, Bahamut's carefully laid plans went to ruin. Now in the aftermath of saving the world and stuck in the past, Noctis has to figure out how to live instead.He has no destiny, no bound brothers, and he doesn't even get to keep his own name. Instead he’s left with a head full of dead ancestors, another chance to get to know his father, and some remarkably persistent new friends.In the end, it turns out that it’s less about fixing the world and more about the moments along the way that make the world worth saving.(Currently Updating Weekly- chapter amount may change slightly.)
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Noctis Lucis Caelum/Nyx Ulric
Comments: 106
Kudos: 159





	1. In the East Citadel Courtyard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains temporary character death, mentions of blood, and cannon typical violence.

Nyx had the distracting feeling of the hair at the nape of his neck just starting to stand up and he reached up to scratch the itch where his braid brushed against skin. Beads tapped against his fingers in a comforting staccato as the braids shifted. He had, again, been punished with Citadel guard duty. At least this time it wasn’t gate duty though. Privately in his own head (and, at least to Liberatus and Crowe, very vocally), Nyx thought that the posting not being gate duty meant that he wasn’t _truly_ in trouble. Disobeying orders had to be punished, even a rookie Glaive like Nyx understood that, but he had still saved lives and that had to count for something. So instead of guarding the gate, Nyx stood watch over the young prince in the East Citadel Courtyard. 

His highness wasn’t exactly hard to keep an eye on. Even now on the cusp of his teenage years, the prince was subdued and quiet. The boy was seated at a black, wrought iron table- one of the few that dotted the manicured lawn- and he listened to his equally young chamberlain as if the other boy had hung the moon. The two basically came as a package, as far as Nyx had ever been able to tell, and separated only for lessons. The overly mature little Lord Ignis was even easier to look after than the Prince and wasn’t any extra work for being added to the job. 

The problem with easy postings, Nyx thought wryly, was that it was also easy to start zoning out. Losing focus when the crown prince was your responsibility wasn’t exactly wise, so he shifted his weight, from one foot to the other, and rolled his shoulders to loosen up. His movement earned him a glare from the Crownsguard he was sharing watch with, but Nyx ignored the pointed look. The crownsguard could stuff it as far as Nyx cared. Glaives were meant for motion and battle- not just standing around like a statue all day, and he’d do what he needed to stay on alert. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the other guard, Signum or some name like that, Nyx swept his gaze over the hedges and paths of the courtyard- looking for anything out of the ordinary in the carefully pruned flora. 

The feeling of unease that had been at the back of his mind clicked suddenly into place and Nyx straightened up, hands falling down to his sides in an easy curl of fingers that were ready to reach for blades. The faint scent of burning ozone hit Nyx, his nostrils flaring slightly at the familiar smell. Someone was wrapping. 

But why here? 

Nyx’s attention snapped to the flashing fractals of royal magic that were popping into stilted existence above the table the boys were at. Instinct had the Glaive running before he had even registered that the crystals were _red-_ not royal blue- not even rich, powerful burgundy- but _red._ They were red, and they were _wrong._

Running full out, Nyx got to the table just in time to snatch the young prince of his chair before ghostly red blades slammed into it and splintered the metal apart like it was nothing. Nyx turned to the side, taking shards of shrapnel on his back and the side of his face as he tucked the prince against him. Continuing the motion of his spin, Nyx grabbed Ignis under the arm, pulling the kid to his feet. Absently he registered the Crownsguard shouting into the coms, back by the door. The call for code ‘Falling Star’ echoed back through Nyx’s own ear piece. The prince was under mortal danger. 

Nyx barely had the second boy grabbed before he was shifting to hold onto Ignis with the same arm that held the Prince tight. He fumbled out a kukri and tossed the blade- warping all three of them halfway back towards the Crownsguard and the doorway. Nyx stumbled on the landing and felt his stomach lurch uncomfortable at the strain of teleporting two extra people with him. He half turned to face the hum of magic as the sense of _wrong_ magnified again. Reaching into himself, Nyx tugged at the borrowed magic that now burrowed into his soul to force up a barrier as the translucent red blades tore free of twisted metal and earth to face them. 

In seconds, hexagonal panels of simmering blue spread out from Nyx’s palm, racing to form the shield. It wasn’t going to make it in time, the battle calmed part of Nyx’s mind thought, as the blades started to move. He only had a fraction of a second to feel resigned to his fate as he lowered his stance, trying to block as much of the boys’ bodies with his own as possible. At least it might buy enough time for the Crownsguard to get the boys to safety, Nyx figured as he braced himself. 

The blades never struck. 

Ethereal blue arms met against the red as the armiger of his king spiraled out to provide cover in their counter attack. Nyx glimpsed the dark, feathery hair and glint off the chains of the royal raiment as the man slid into place to protect his son. Nyx took the opening for what it was and with hardly a glance he was moving again. Twisting his back to the battle, Nyx made sure both boys were tucked against him as he flung them right into another warp, this time pushing himself to bring them through the threshold of the door. 

Nyx landed hard, one knee slamming against the cool, obsidian floor. That calm part of his mind made note that he really needed to practice warping with other people. It was a handy trick, even if teleporting the other two had left him fighting for consciousness. 

Sounds were ringing in his ears, echoed and muddled and cut across by the harsh bark from his com that he couldn’t quite make out. Nyx shook his head as he tried to clear it, and the world solidified back together with a painful snap. The sounds of boots rushing towards them was suddenly all too loud as the Guard swarmed. 

The Crownsguard set up a protective circle around Nyx and the boys- both of who Nyx was still shielding with his body. He could feel the young prince trembling slightly in his arms while Ignis was concerningly rigid by comparison. Nyx sucked in a deep breath and made himself relax his hold and take in the commotion surrounding them. More footsteps were marching in their direction. 

Looking up, Nyx saw that striding swiftly towards them was the King and his Shield- coming from deeper in the Citadel. Nyx’s brain hung desperately onto that fact as reality wavered unsteadily around him. He started to really wonder how much the warps had affected him because- “Your Majesty? You- weren’t you just in the courtyard?” 

Nyx saw King Regis’ lips move but he couldn’t make out all the words. The ringing sound was encroaching on his senses again. “No.. why do…” 

“Royal blue- there was an armiger of royal blue and... one of red...” Nyx struggled to explain, black started eating at the edges of his vision again. He took a breath but it felt like there was no air in it. 

Fuck, Nyx thought, right before the darkness dragged him down into unconsciousness. 

* * *

“My dear boy,” Ardyn snarled at Noctis from behind their locked blades. He floated a few inches above the grass of the courtyard and bore the weight of his blades and magic down on Noctis. The chancellor’s composure had gone to shreds, Noctis noted, trying not to focus too hard on the rotting decay of the Scourge that dripped down Ardyn’s pale skin in a noxious stain. Noctis hardly looked well himself- stained with dirt and grime and blood, but Ardyn seemed to nearly be unraveling. Wisps of the Starscourge floated off him, making the air around him seem nearly cloudy. Each move he made cut through the ash of disease and made the flakes twist and swirl. 

Ardyn paid it no mind as he shouted, “I really rather wish you would stop getting in my way! You’ve become quite the nuisance and I do not appreciate it!” 

“You know, feeling justified, seeing how you’re trying to kill mini-me,” Noctis quipped back, putting all the tone of a bored king into the worlds that he could while literally fighting for his life- lives really. As they had leapt and fought through time, Noctis had started to notice that the more emotional Ardyn was, the more the Scourge consumed him, the more he seemed to flake and dissolve, and the more openings to strike back appeared. It was a dangerous risk to push for those openings, the desperation of the Scourge also made Ardyn’s attacks more brutal, but Noctis only needed one good opening to finish this. Noctis knew he was a deadman anyways, it didn’t matter what damage he took as long as Ardyn went down with him. 

“Of course, you can’t even manage to kill me as a literal child, so…” 

Noctis pivoted on his good leg to avoid the crimson polearm that had spun away from the mass of Ardyn’s armiger to strike at him. Trails of blue sparkled amid the black miasma as Noctis twisted further into the movement. His eyes raked over the scenery, catching on one of the familiar columns of the Citadel’s exterior. Noctis flung his sword towards the column and reached after with his magic, tugging himself along the path of the blade as reality warped and folded with his will. A half dozen more weapons embedded themselves in the ground where he had stood moments before- cutting through the blue, phantom afterimage of him that still lingered there. 

Not for the first time, Noctis regretted not having collected more royal arms. His dozen were nothing compared to the hundred more that Ardyn had been able to spend years collecting from their long dead relatives. Noctis clung stubbornly to the Sword of the Father as he hit the column with it, bitterly pleased that at least Ardyn didn’t have this blade. 

With a tug, Noctis yanked the sword from the seam of the masonry where it had stuck and dropped from where he hung. Red blades clashed against the Citadel’s exterior in a shower of sparks- following Noctis’ path as he let himself fall, one hand running along the smooth wall. Hitting the ground, Noctis tucked into a roll to absorb the impact from the landing. He bit back a cry of pain from rolling on his weak knee and pushed through the movement and his screaming muscles. The circle of his blades rose in a shimmering spiral around him, ready to defend him, only for a barrier of blue to ripple up in front of him. 

_Dad-_ his magic screamed at him in response to the spell that formed to protect him. The Lucii shouted to him everything that Regis ever had been _King- the CXIII- Son- Father._ Unbidden, his own magic rose up to meet the other presence. He gasped- trying to yank his answering call back while it screamed at him to connect withthe presence of family and home and safety and _Dad_ that was just out of sight behind him. 

Stumbling back on his heels, Noctis snapped his head around- needing to see the truth his magic sobbed at him. In all the time jumps before this, his father had never been there. Noctis has seen others- Clarus, Cor, younger versions of his bound brothers, familiar Guards and Glaives- but never- 

“...Dad.” 

He snapped his teeth shut around the word, trying to bite it back as he stared at his father, but it was too late. The word was out- spoke into reality- and his magic reached across the gap with it. He saw his father’s eyes widen in response as their magic connected and sung together in a call and response of ‘alive- you’re alive. I’m alive. Dad, family- my son’. 

“Do you _mind!”_ Ardyn roared at them, tossing his arms out wide with flourish of the torn coat- stained black with the ichor of Ardyn’s blood and red with Noctis’. “We are _trying_ to have a divinely ordained battle here! And you _,_ my _insignificant_ King, are supposed to be dead for it!” 

The red armiger blades slammed against the barrier as Ardyn raged- swords and polearms and axes hit and shattered against the protection that Regis held firm- one arm steadily out stretched. Keeping his focus on Ardyn, Noctis took a few steps backwards towards Regis. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Noctis saw Clarus move to stand between him and his dad. Regis reached out to gently move Clarus aside with his other hand, fingers resting on the Shield’s arm as he cleared his throat, rasping, “I- Noctis?” 

Whether it was having to swallow back against the lump in his throat or turning to face the father he never thought he’d see again, Noctis felt all of 18 rather than the weird sort of 30 that he really was. “Hey, Dad. So… long story…” 

* * *

When the call of ‘Falling Star’ came through, Regis had bolted from the council meeting without a second thought. His _son_ \- his precious, wonderful boy- was in mortal danger _again_ and this time the danger had breached the safety of the Citadel. Something had attacked his son in their home, and Regis was going to rend whatever- whomever- it was limb from limb for that. 

Regis felt the presence of Clarus flanking him, keeping the pace that Regis had set towards the East Courtyard where the call had come in from. The King used the calm, reliable thrum of his Shield’s core to steady himself as the other took in the reports from his com, relaying it through to his King. 

“Uncertain adversary, reports of what seems to be magic. A glaive has both boys and is working to secure them. That-,” Clarus fell silent, listening again. “Reports of a Glaive or someone with your magic is fighting back. Multiple may be on site, report is uncertain. Still a single adversary- a man. A Crownsguard is down. Working to recover-” 

Clarus asked for confirmation through his com before stating, “The Guard have Noctis secured!” 

Regis’ heart jumped at that but he didn’t slow his stride. He needed to see that his son was whole and safe. He needed to see that Noctis wasn’t lying on the floor bleeding to death again. He needed to see proof. 

And, rounding the corner to the entrance Regis did get to see. His son was surrounded by a regiment of Crownsguard, on high alert with their weapons drawn. In the center of their circle a Kingsglaive crouched, shielding the smaller forms of Noctis and Ignis. Regis could see only a few specks of blood and those marred the Glaive’s face. The man’s attention jerked up to them as they approached. His pupils were blown wide with adrenaline and didn’t quite seem to focus. Stasis, Regis thought as they covered the rest of the distance to the huddle of people. 

“Your Majesty? You- weren’t you just in the courtyard?” The Glaive asked, mouth twisted into a frown. 

“No. Why do you think I was in the Courtyard, Glaive?” Regis asked, his pulse picking up unsteadily. There was the sensation of something being so very wrong creeping up the back of Regis’ spine. He leaned ever so slightly into Clarus' hand that had come up to support him at the small of his back. 

“Royal blue- there was an armiger of royal blue and… one of red…,” the Glaive said breathlessly right before he started to tilt over. Noctis made a concerned sound and Regis dropped quickly to his knee to pull his son against his chest and Clarus moved to catch the falling Glaive from smashing his skull against the hard floor. While Clarus transferred the Glaive to a Crownsguard, Regis checked his son over with worry before pulling him close into another hug. He pushed every ounce of protection and safety that he could through the bond with his son. A second later he pulled Ingis into the hug as well. 

“My boys. I am so very, _very_ , glad that you are both safe,” Regis whispered to them. He took a deep breath and made himself stop clutching them to his chest. Leaning back, he kept a hand on each of their shoulders. “I need you both to stay with the Crownsguard here. They will keep you safe, but I need you to listen to them and do as they say. They’re going to take you to the safe room.” 

“And.. him?” Noctis asked, voice small and trembling. 

“Who? Ah, the Glaive,” Regis said with a nod when his son pointed at the unconscious man. “Someone will see him to the infirmary right away, never you worry. I believe he simply exhausted his magic.” 

“Now you go with-,” Regis glanced up to scan the faces of the guards for one he knew off the top of his head, “-Cautus here and him and the others will keep you safe.” 

He squeezed his son’s shoulder before he made himself let go and stand up, feeling the twinge in his knee as he did so. Noctis reached out and clutched at Ignis’s hand, the 12 year old, as stalwart as ever, said. “I will watch after Prince Noctis, Your Majesty.” 

“I am certain you will, Ignis. Guard Cautus- see them to the safe room.” 

“Sir, yes sir!” the Guard said, raising his hand to his chest and bowing, as did the rest of the guards other than the two Clarus was directing to see to Ulric and the fallen Crownsguard that had been pulled inside. Regis gave them all a nod and one last touch to Noctis' hair before he strode past them and out into the courtyard. 

The heavy tang of magic hit him immediately. The burnt ozone after scent from warping hung as a heavy taste in the back of his throat alongside the acidic burn of something daemonic. Blending with the other smells was such a strong, sharp, metallic bite of blood that Regis was instantly scanning the area for bodies even as he strode into the courtyard. 

Nearly right in front of them, someone in royal black hit the ground and rolled forward to their feet. Instinctually, Regis reached out and summoned a barrier before the other- between whoever this was and that spine curling sense of wrong that had risen to nearly overwhelming levels. The figure rocked back from the barrier, head swinging to look at them, and Regis felt his breath shutter. 

It was like looking back at himself from a few years prior. No, that wasn’t quite right- the nose was longer, the brows sharper, and those eyes- _Astrals_ those were Aulea’s eyes. This- 

“...Dad.” 

It was so quiet that Regis almost missed the word, but the swell of magic that sung out to him was unmistakable. A cry of home with a heartbreaking affirmation of life hit him and his own magic rose up to shout back that of _family_ to this stranger with his son’s eyes. The magic that called to him- this strong, _loud_ core- beat the same as his son’s fledgling magic that had just started to bloom. This core that was so obviously _his son’s_ sang back against his own. But unlike the son that Regis knew- who’s core was still growing and soft- this core was sharp and hardened. 

Even through his cautious, gentle reach, Regis felt all the rough edges that threatened to cut at him for daring to get too close. Each chipped off and discarded, broken edge was a danger to both of them- a potential to cut or to further crack. He could feel the familiar gouge from the marilith attack, but everything else was new and was so, _so_ much damage. For a moment, Regis was adrift in the agony of it all and he had to stop his magic from trying to reach out to heal- repair- protect this son that stood before him- so much older and so much more broken. 

Through the cracks and wounds, that core sang bright with immense power that stank of blood. Power that was so strong that for a moment it nearly brought Regis to his knees. Whatever had broken his son’s core had also tempered it into something more mighty than any magic Regis could have ever imagined. 

What had happened to his son? 

“Do you _mind!”_ a sudden voice roared at them and Regis’ attention snapped away from this son to another man- one who oozed the acidic scent of daemons from the ichor that dripped from his mouth. Regis recoiled at sight as the man continued, “We are _trying_ to have a divinely ordained battle here! And you _,_ my _insignificant_ King, are supposed to be dead for it!” 

Regis held his barrier firm against the assault that was sent against it, his attention straying back to his son. When Clarus tried to move between them, he rested hand on the other’s arm, squeezing it. He had to try twice to manage to say, “I- Noctis?” 

His son seemed similarly affected as he rasped back, “Hey, Dad. So… long story… Shit. I- look- I’ve got a prophecy to fulfil here, you know?” 

“Yes so let’s get to it shall we?” the second man shouted, a flick of his wrist causing more weapons to slam again against the shield. The blue light held firm with Regis’ resolve. 

“Don’t worry, Dad,” this Noctis said. His tongue darted out absently to flick over a cut on the chapped lips that tried to form a smile. “I won't let him hurt your me- this Noctis. I’ll stop him.” 

“Is that… the chancellor of Niflheim?” Regis asked. He squeezed Clarus' arm and then dropped it as he stepped up beside his son. Regis watched the raging man from the corner of his eyes, unable to take his gaze fully off of this version of his son. He felt as if he did, the other might simply disappear. 

“Well, ya,” Noctis said. Complicated emotions crossed his expression and settled into a deep scowl and furrowed brows. Those eyes were still so much Aulea’s, Regis noted almost absently, but there was something ancient in those eyes now- something that must be tied to the same changes that scarred the other’s core. The blue was almost bottomless. His son shook his head. “More importantly… his name is Ardyn Lucis Caelum. He’s… he was the Healer King. Now he’s the Adagium.” 

“Yes, introductions all around!” Ardyn called, sarcasm dripping from his mouth as thick as the Scourge. “But this has been 2000 years in the making, and I think it is about time that we get around to finishing it!” 

Ardyn’s full armiger formed around him with bursts and pops of red crystalline light as he screamed at the two kings. Regis dragged his eyes away from his son to look at the sight for a moment before focusing back on Noctis. He looked like a king, Regis thought as he took in this older profile of his son. There were too many questions to be asked- too much to know- but Regis knew the thing that mattered most at the moment: that this was his son, and he would stand by him. 

Regis gave a slight nod of his head. “On your lead then, my son, and I will follow.” 

* * *

Noctis was surprised at how well he fit with his father in the fight. He’d never truly sparred with Regis. By the time Noctis had been old enough to properly pick up the sword instead of simply waving one around, his Father had already been too far down the path of being addled by the drain of the Ring and the Wall to participate. Even now, in this earlier time, Noctis could already see the tell-tale streaks of grey just starting to form in Regis’ dark hair. 

Despite the lack of side by side experience, they fought well against Ardyn. Perhaps it was that Noctis had been trained by Regis' bound brothers who knew the style that his father fought in like their own. Perhaps it was that Clarus was there with them now, protecting his king even against this threat, and Noctis knew how to fight with Clarus- with a Shield. Perhaps it was simply the way that their magic sang together against the sickly, familial echo of Ardyn’s song. 

No matter the reason though, they fought together in a rhythm that formed all in the moment. Noctis was the one who broke from the others to close the gap and attack Ardyn directly. He would crouch and push off the grass into a warp thrust, darting forward through Regis’ barrier in a shower of blue afterimages to clash blade to blade with Ardyn. Then, in the moments when the battle raged on a grander scale of burts of magic and hundreds of swirling blades, Noctis would pull back to his father, relying on the King to fling up powerful shields. Their armigers spiraled out together as Regis added his to Noctis’ own, blue clashing and breaking and reforming against red. Clarus kept watch at their backs, parrying any blade that would try to flank around the edges of the barrier. Regis was half aware of Cor, also in the area, working on keeping the Citadel and its people safe. 

Whereas Ardyn flagged under the combined attacks of father and son, they only seemed to grow stronger as their magics supported each other. The echoing resonance let Noctis pull on reserves he didn’t even know he had- not even with all the power of the gods and the Crystal flowing through him. There wasn’t time to be mindful of his pull on the power, Noctis knew he had to take Ardyn down once again, and Regis offered the support to his son without hesitation. 

Blade clashed against blade again as Noctis once more swept close. He struck quickly and pulled back quickly- relying on the push of the swirling armiger to hover away from Ardyn for a moment before he dove back in again and again and again. With each strike he tested the limits of Ardyn’s defenses. The power from his father fed into him, and Noctis started to push Ardyn into a retreat. The immortal man lost ground with each swing of Noctis' ethereal blade. 

A pressure started to push against the base of Noctis’ skull. On the edge of his mind he was aware through his covenants that Ardyn was reaching for the stolen power to jump time again as the fight turned against him. Instantly, Noctis knew he had to finish this here and now while he was still with his father. 

“Barrier around us- now!” Noctis shouted, as he clashed with Ardyn. He didn’t let up his attack as the blue sphere snapped around them, the pure power of the Crystal cutting Ardyn off from where he had been reaching through the Beyond to pull on a new thread of time. Ardyn gasped at the sudden loss of connecting and staggered, just for a moment. It was all Noctis needed. He summoned the Sword of the Father to his hands, the blade materializing mid motion as he plunged it into Ardyn’s heart for a second time. 

Noctis stumbled back. His hands dropped from the hilt of the blade. Ardyn crashed to his knees and then felt backwards into a crumpled heap. The ichor of the Scourge bubbled up from Ardyn’s throat as the man twitched and thrashed in the throes of death. 

And then he lay still. 

Flakes of the Starscourge rose from Ardyn, twisting and burning in the sun as it started to dissolve. Noctis watched them rise, hitting the barrier behind him as he stumbled into it. He stared up at the bright sky through the barrier and the Wall. Gods, he missed the sky. 

“Noctis?” Regis called out carefully as he started to approach where his older son stood. Noctis had gone so pale. 

It wasn’t over- not yet. Gods, he was going to miss the sky _so_ much. “Drop the barrier.” 

Regis complied and reached out to catch Noctis by the shoulder and steady him when the blue fell. He felt the wail of pain from Noctis’ core and his hand tightened on the cold shoulder. Even though he knew the answer, Regis asked, “Is it done?” 

He could still hope. 

“No, Dad, it’s not,” Noctis said, voice cracking on the words. He closed his eyes to the sky and let his head drop, swallowing hard. “It’s- I’m glad that I got to see you again, Dad. I- I did the best I could, and I know it wasn’t good enough. I know that, but I _tried._ I walked tall. And now I need to finish this.” 

“Noctis-” 

“Look after him, alright Dad? The me of this time. It will be easier now- or will be soon- when the Scourge is gone. The Empire will be weak. You can give him the time he needs soon. I- he needs more than he lets on. I know that I- he… that it wasn’t always easy. _Won't_ be easy. But never doubt that I love you, okay?” Noctis asked, pulling away from his father’s grasp. He turned to face him as he took a few uneasy steps backwards. Noctis did his best to smile, one last time, for his dad. 

Regis stretched a hand out towards his son and the magic wailed back against his own. He watched his own sword rise from where it had impaled the Accursed. The material form for the blade shattered and turned ghostly as it spun above his son. Noctis dropped to his knees before it. 

Clarus reached Regis’ side just as the sword rose and then plunged down into Noctis’ chest. Regis rocked back into his Shield’s support as his son _screamed_. Noctis’ whole body arched up against the sword that skewered him in the air. He screamed out every bit of air in his lungs. 

He was screaming as his heart once again beat its last, final beat- pierced by his father’s sword. His consciousness collapsed into itself, tracing back from the center of his core along a tenuous thread of a bond- all the way back to the shattered part of his core left behind in the time he had come from. Everything snapped into place when he reached the end. 

Once again Noctis was in the Crystals’ bubble of Beyond. Beside him was Luna and in front of him Ardyn- the Accursed’s soul yanked back to this time by the gods. Reaching out, Noctis grasped Luna’s hand as he lent his flagging power to hers. He pulled on every covenant with the gods, every ounce of what he had gained from his ten years with the Lucii, every scrap that he had left in his own core, and he pushed it through to end Ardyn. To finally send him to rest. To finally end this all. 

He might have screamed again as the blinding light burst forth from their clasped hands. Blinking against the afterimage of the light, he watched the last of everything that Ardyn was drift away into the Beyond. 

Luna’s gentle hand on his face turned him by the cheek to look at her. He went to tug her close by their clasped hands, but suddenly his own body jerked and spasmed. He felt like he was burning from the inside out as he collapsed against her. Noctis felt fingers brush gently through his hair. “They are calling you back, Noctis. Go to them. Go and live.” 

“Luna-!” 

“Shush, I am alright Notis. I trust you to make the world a better place. You are remarkable like that, Noctis. Go on now- while Shiva can still hold the path back open. Good bye, my dearest friend.” 

Noctis tried to speak again, but the burning choked him as it coursed through him. 

* * *

In the East Citadel Courtyard, Noctis’ heart beat its last beat. As life left it, his body slumped back and off the sword that had pierced it. The blade dissolved into a shower of blue fractals that condensed tighter and tighter in on itself before exploding into a blinding blue light that traveled out in a shock wave across the courtyard. 

Across Insomnia. 

Across Lucis. 

Across Eos. 

And in the light of a thousand dawns that had been lost to ten years of darkness, the Starscourge burned. 

Noctis’ body collapsed to the ground as that last burst of power left it, and Regis rushed forward to scoop the body of his son into his arms. For the second time in his life, Regis felt the blood of his son coat his hands. Shaking, he pulled a Phoenix Down from his armiger, crushed it against Noctis' chest, and prayed. 

In the East Citadel Courtyard, Noctis’ heart beat its last beat. And then, moments later, it beat its first beat of a brand new life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you got all the way here, thank you so much for reading! It's been over a decade since I write anything more than snippets and it is lovely to be writing again! I have several chapters already written and edited, so I hope to be able to keep up a steady stream of updates! Special thanks to GuineaGoon for helping with some of the editing/listening to me plot.
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **Next Chapter:**  
>  Nyx was about to start counting how many skulls he could see in the decor of the bedroom out of desperation to avoid his own thoughts. He was on guard duty, again. To be fair though, most all the Glaives were in the same position.


	2. Breathing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains dealing with past temporary death, mentions of blood, and vague mentions of medical procedures.

Noctis was aware- vaguely- of breathing. He struggled against the wet, thick feeling of blood in his throat as he tried to gasp air into his desperate lungs. Someone was calling his name. They sounded afraid. Noctis thought that maybe there was a hand holding his and he tried to squeeze it back. He didn’t want anyone to be afraid because of him. 

It was later, or so Noctis guessed, when he was next aware of breathing. It was still a struggle but for different reasons- there was _something_ in his mouth- down his throat. He tried to bring his hands up to claw at it, and the world burst into a cacophony of voices and blaring alarms. Noctis struggled to open his eyes and was blinded by bright, white light. He whimpered, and the noise faded along with everything else. 

The third time he was aware- he felt it was the third time but he didn’t really know- breathing was easier. There was something over his mouth this time but not in it. He tried to form words but only managed a soft wheeze. There was a hand in his again this time and it squeezed his back. “Don’t push yourself- oxygen- too much damage- just stay w-” the voice said, cutting in and out. Wheezing again, Noctis reached out with his magic to brush against the person and the sensations of love and worry and pride filtered back to him. He sunk into the comforting sensation and tried to push back for the other to not be afraid before he slipped back into darkness. 

Regis squeezed the hand of this older version of his son as the other seemed to fade unconscious again. He held the chilled hand for a moment longer before he gently pulled his own away to rub at his face. His palms were still pressed tight to his eyes when he felt Cor enter the room. The familiar presence of his Sword, both restless and unyielding, settled Regis’ mind at least for a moment, and he let his hands drop to regard the other. 

Cor’s focus was on the man in the bed. “How is he?” 

“He woke again just now- only for a moment. He’s breathing on his own- the doctors have managed to repair the collapsed lung, and the wound on his chest has started to heal properly with the aid of quite a bit of magic,” Regis reported, leaning his arms forward onto his knees and clasping his hands together. “He’ll likely suffer low lung capacity for some time, along with a great deal of pain. At this moment, the assumption is that as long as he doesn’t open any stitches he should heal. The largest issue is that he seems to be in an extended stasis of some sort.” 

“From that blast of power?” 

Regis hummed in agreement. “What have you found on that?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Cor,” Regis sighed, closing his eyes at the not unusual sense of frustration he felt towards the youngest of his retinue. “You wouldn’t be back already if you had nothing to report.” 

“Nothing _is_ my report,” Cor said, meeting his King’s exasperated gaze easily. “Everything seems exactly the same except there’s one significant absence. There’s been no confirmed sightings of any daemons since the Burst.” 

“The Burst?” 

“It’s what the people out there are all calling it,” Cor said with an uncaring shrug. “It works- better than just referring it to as the Event at least. People are talking, Regis.” 

“I know. I had hoped to have him awake for this- not just for answers but also for how he wishes this to be handled as far as he’s concerned,” Regis explained, getting an understanding nod from his Sword. He took a deep breath and stood. “Alright, I will get back to work on my public address then. The doctors have approved a move soon to a suite in the family wing. It will be easier there to keep things private. I want guards on the rooms at all times. Crownsguard and Kingsglaive both. Until we are sure that the threat of the Accursed is truly gone, we will continue to act as if it is not. That protection goes for any key people.” 

“Understood. I’ll arrange it personally,” Cor said. He paused in that way of his where the silence said more than words before adding, “And maybe eat and take a shower while you’re at it Regis. You’re getting ripe.” 

“Ass,” Regis bit back without any heat as he left the hospital room. The verbal volley was an easy sense of normality amidst all the rest of the madness. 

* * *

Nyx was about to start counting how many skulls he could see in the decor of the bedroom out of desperation to avoid his own thoughts. He was on guard duty, again. To be fair though, most all the Glaives were in the same position. In the wake of the Burst, any Kingsglaive not assigned to a secure outpost had been called back to Insomnia. Any Glaive already in Insomnia was being kept close to the city. That left most of the Glaive on guard duty, which was at an increased need with every important political figure or building in Insomnia having guards on them after the events of the last few days. 

He was trying to think of his specific posting as more of a reward than a punishment. After all, he’d helped save the Prince’s life. There was even talk of a damn medal being involved- as if he did it for that. Still, apparently, that act had put him on the trusted list to watch over this _other_ Lucis Caelum. 

The official Citadel statement on the day of the attack called this unknown man ‘outside aid’. The King’s speech yesterday referred to him as a previously unknown member of the royal family. A brief video of the attack caught on a tourist’s camcorder had leaked and there was certainly no questioning the man’s lineage with the magic that he wielded. He also resembled Regis, Nyx thought, looking at the resting figure. Even through the oxygen mask, the man was undeniably attractive- the strong cheekbones, the sweep of black hair, and even the soft, subtle beard were all appealing. 

Nyx had a minor moment of horror realizing that he’d basically just thought of his King as being attractive. That was not somewhere he needed to go, Nyx grumbled to himself with a mental sigh. This _really_ was going to be a long day if he was left to his own thoughts like this. 

At least on gate or prince duty there were things to watch. Here it was only the room or the other man- who wasn’t exactly the most exciting company right then. Nyx tried to distract himself by thinking about how he would go about training to warp with other people. What he had done during the attack had really knocked him out, and he was less than pleased to have been worthless for most of the fight. He was halfway through planning out a schedule for it when a change in the steady rise and fall of the unconscious man’s chest caught his attention. Nyx waited till he saw the other was awake enough to reach for the oxygen mask to approach the bed. 

“Better leave that on- Marshal’s orders,” Nyx said softly. He was sure to keep his arms clearly out to his side and his tone friendly. The last thing he needed was to have a spooked, feral Lucis Caelum on his hands. Nyx found himself swallowing as the man caught proper sight of him. For a moment, there was a fathomless depth to the azure gaze that threatened to overwhelm Nyx. Then Noctis gave a huff of air and closed his eyes again. 

Noctis stopped trying to remove the mask and let his hand fall back to the bed. He clutched at the sheet for a moment as he tried desperately to steady himself. Everything still felt out of balance. It was like the whole of the world and time was exploded out around him- each piece and part pulled away for easy observation and access. 

“...not… supposed to be… ‘live,” Noctis mumbled the one thing he knew for certain. The words were muffled by the oxygen mask and hard to hear even in the quiet room. 

“Didn’t catch that, sorry. What do you need?” Nyx asked, taking a few more cautious steps towards the bed, making sure to stay where he’d still be easily in line of sight if Noctis opened his eyes again. Something at the back of Nyx’s mind knew that this man could destroy him if he wanted, and that level of power was terrifying… and a little thrilling. 

“Nothing,” Noctis rasped, taking a deep breath of the pure oxygen and letting it out slowly before taking another. “Just- surprised- confused. I’m not exactly supposed to be alive.” 

Nyx paused. His braids spilled over his shoulder as he tilted his head at that. Definitely a bit feral, this one. “Gotta say, I may not know your story, but I’m pretty sure that not being dead is always the better outcome. So why don’t you sound particularly happy about that fact?” 

“Just not how… it’s supposed to go,” Noctis said as he forced himself to struggle through opening his eyes again. Nyx blinked into focus and Noctis steadied himself against yet another moment of pain of remembrance. He hadn’t known Nyx in much more than passing and rumor, but he learned some of Nyx’s story and what the other had done to make sure people- Luna- got out of the Fall alive. It was a brutal reminder to Noctis that this wasn’t his time. He didn’t really belong here. “Not sure it’s going to stick.” 

Nyx’s lips pressed into a tight frown. “Well, pretty sure you have some pretty powerful people wanting to keep you alive. People I should call into since you’re awake. Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” 

“Some water? I guess,” Noctis said, trying to take in the state of his body. Nyx nodded and slipped out the door. 

Noctis could hear Nyx talking in the other room- calling someone on his com or so Noctis assumed. Slowly he tried to sit himself up, pushing up on arms that felt like wet noodles. He must be on the really good stuff not to have pain lancing through every part of him. It did mean that he couldn’t manage to sit up on his own though, and Noctis resigned himself to laying there for the moment and worked on settling his mind. 

He recognized the room he was in- or at least the type of room. It was one of the suites in the family wing, which meant he was still in the Citadel. If he had been able to find the strength to stand, Noctis knew that he could have basically navigated the suite with his eyes closed. It was laid out, structurally at least, just like his childhood room. Despite knowing the area so intimately, it didn’t feel like he was truly there. Part of him felt like he was still adrift in the damn Crystal for how detached everything seemed. Noctis really hoped that the sensation was from the drugs. 

Noctis really feared that wasn’t the case. 

“Alright- everyone I needed to let know you were awake knows,” Nyx said as he came back into the room, setting the glass of water on the bedside table. “Anything that hurts so much I shouldn’t touch it?” 

While any superficial cuts or abrasions were clearly healed, Nyx knew that sometimes the deeper things couldn’t be taken care of by potions alone. From how many days the other was in the med wing and with the oxygen and IV he was still attached to, Nyx figured there had to be plenty of unseen issues left. 

“Not right now,” Noctis replied, voice still sounding winded. 

“Good. So, I’m going to get an arm under your shoulders and tilt you up so I can get some pillows behind you. We’re just going to just focus on sitting up a little, not shifting up on the bed or anything,” Nyx said as he grabbed the extra pillows from the other side of the bed. He gave a count to three (though Noctis would have preferred Nyx just get on with it rather than knowing it was coming) and then everything was in motion. Even with the heavy drugs running through his system, Noctis had to bite back a whine of pain as he was leaned up enough for the pillows to fit in behind him. 

“All done now, just lean back,” Nyx said. He hovered close as Noctis sunk gratefully back into the pillows, eyes squeezed shut. Nyx gave the injured man a few more moments before he said, “I’m going to take your mask off now so you can drink and then it’s right back on, alright?” 

Noctis tilted his head in consent and to make it easier to pull off the mask. As soon as it was off he felt the urge to cough and he swallowed the response back. He had to use both hands to keep the glass steady, and Nyx kept a hand hovering close just in case, but Noctis was grateful to be able to drink some water. The cool liquid helped soothe his ravaged throat. Hard lessons from long days out on the road had him handing the glass back over after he had drunk only a few sips. It was less water than he wanted, but more than water he wanted not to be ill right then- not on top of everything else. 

Nyx was quick to take the weight of the glass and set it back on the side table. Noctis gave up fumbling with the mask and let Nyx handle putting it back on, smoothing down the loops of elastic against Noctis’ hair. 

“There you go,” Nyx said, stepping back from Noctis once the mask was back on. He didn’t want to hover as the other rested, always hating that sensation himself when he was laid up hurt. Despite what Libs said, Nyx was not making a habit of getting hurt- just sometimes something needed to be done and it was easiest for him to do it himself. He wasn’t going to put anyone else at risk. It _was_ getting him a reputation though and one he wasn’t fond of. 

Nyx was pulled out of his thoughts- and his _not_ hovering- by a knock at the door. Even if no one dangerous should have gotten that far, much less knocked if they were a threat, Nyx felt better being overly cautious after the events of the last few days and put fingers to his blades. When the door opened to reveal the King and his Shield, Nyx instead put his hand to his chest and gave a bow to his King. 

“Thank you, Glaive Ulric. If you would step outside for a moment,” Regis said, kindly, to the Glaive. Nyx responded with a ‘yes sir’ and left the bedroom with one last glance at the man in the bed before he closed the door behind him. 

Noctis had his eyes open again and was watching his father as the other approached the bed. That feeling of being not all there intensified as he watched this Regis- a man younger than from Noctis’ memory- take a seat in the chair near the bedside. Regis crossed his hands and rested them on his knee. His pose was purposefully relaxed and open, and Noctis was well aware of the act. He’d seen his father use this body language on dignitaries and business reps alike when wanted to be sure to come across as kindly and open to listening. 

Noctis didn’t know whether to hate that his dad (not _his_ dad) was using that pose with him or appreciate the care. Of course, most people also wouldn’t have the King’s magic actively reaching out to twine with them. Noctis knew that his father- that Regis was also keeping that avenue purposefully open. Even as muted as everything was right then, Noctis could feel Regis trying not to press too forcefully against his core and the thrum of family calling through it. 

On his end, Regis was grateful for the even keel presence of Clarus standing behind him to help keep his feelings anchored. He hated how broken this version of Noctis looked even after days of healing. Regis scanned Noctis’ face, taking in the early wrinkles around the eyes that accented the drawn look the other had. He leaned forward just slightly, saying, “It’s good to see you properly awake. You woke a few times before but weren’t wholly conscious.” 

“Ya- I remember that a little. Have to say, not sure I’m exactly… together right now either.” 

“They have you on some heavy medication. The phoenix down brought you back but there was- there was a great deal of injury that didn’t heal,” Regis said, swallowing around the verbal misstep as he remembered what it felt like to have his son’s _blood_ covering his hands and arms for a second time. 

“Well, you know, sword through the chest will sorta do that,” Noctis replied acridly. 

“Really could we not be so flippant at the moment?” Regis snapped back, the memory far too fresh to him to be so casual about it. 

“Hate to tell you this since mini-me might not be there yet but flippant sarcasm is sort of the default coping method Dad- Regis. Fuck, this is weird.” 

“Language,” Regis said reflexively. 

“You know what- I have died _at least_ twice to save the world. I think I’ve earned the right to say ‘fuck’.” 

Unable to help it, Regis gave a short laugh at that. He brought up a hand to run through his hair, shaking his head slightly. “You know what? It sounds like you have. I think we have a great deal to speak about, don’t we?” 

“Understatement of the century there, believe me. Just you, me, Clarus, and Cor though- no one else and no guards in the room, okay?” Noctis asked, rubbing at his face with the hand not tethered to the IV. “It’s- ya. It’s a real long story Dad.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support of this so far! I can't even begin to tell you how much every kudos, comment, bookmark or subscription means to me. It was beyond nerve wracking to post the last chapter and you all have made it such a great experience already!
> 
> This chapter was a bit shorter/slower, but it was a good stop point as the next few chapters are dealing with the aftermath of the fight, 'the Burst', and still being alive. I hope you all enjoy all the good dad Regis moments to come!
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **Next Chapter:**  
>  “I’d like to say that Cor has always had unshakable faith in me,” Regis drawled, “But I think the first few years, he would have stabbed me if Mors had ordered it.”
> 
> “Fatally? Probably not. Little stabbing? Absolutely,” Cor deadpanned back.


	3. A Shattered Stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains dealing with past temporary death and a panic attack: starts after Regis answers Noctis about the prophecy.

Noctis leaned back into the couch, trying to gather himself as Regis settled next to him with Cor and Clarus seated in armchairs on the other side of the coffee table. He hadn't wanted to have this conversation laid up in bed. 

"So… I'll give a summary of it all. And I know you'll have questions, believe me, but can we just… let me get through it all first and then I'll answer what I can?" Notcis asked. If he was stopped, he didn’t think he would be able to start again. 

"Of course," Regis said. "The floor is yours." 

Noctis swallowed against the lump in his throat, nodded, and started talking. To begin, he covered the treaty and being sent away before Insomnia's fall. Quickly, he glossed over the next several weeks of travel to get the royal arms and covenants with the gods. Haltingly, he made it through the major points of Altissia and then skipped pretty much to finding the Crystal with only a few comments in between. He didn’t talk much about his time in the Crystal because if he thought too hard about it, he felt the pull of the Crystal at the back of his mind and the sensation threatened to overwhelm him. 

Quietly, voice rough from taking even as he tried to keep it brief, Noctis described the Long Night. Or he tried to describe it at least. He was still trying to come to terms with the ten years that had passed and having to describe it when he hardly understood it left him feeling detached. Noctis turned the fractured Ring of the Lucii around on his finger, a nervous tick he’d picked up since the Crystal. 

Finally, he struggled to sum up everything that Ardyn was. “He… Six I don’t even know. The gods did him wrong- Bahamut did him wrong. His brother- the fucking Founder King- did him wrong. But at the same time… Ardyn still made the choices he did. He was behind everything, really, with the war in recent times. And when he was going to lose at the end… I think the Scourge got desperate. He found a way to try a little earlier in his path. And a few time jumps later here we are. Here I am at least. So… that’s the whole story.” 

“How?” Clarus asked, tone carefully contained and curt. Noctis glanced up at his uncle. No, not his uncle. This man looked at him like he was a stranger, not a beloved nephew. 

“He stole some of Shiva’s power. Well- some of her messenger’s really. We were dead in the pocket of the Beyond that the Crystal contains and I think… that the gods are a little vulnerable in that place because of what it is. Ardyn used that weakness to take Umbra’s power and force it together with his own and what was left of his connection with Ifrit to jump through time. And not in the fake way either.” 

Cor leaned forward in his seat. He was quiet and serious in his normal way, but he wasn’t on guard like Clarus. Noctis let himself take comfort in the fact that Cor was still Cor- a constant across time. Clarifying, Cor asked, “The fake way?” 

“Something Umbra let me do while I slept. I could hop back through… not memories but it wasn’t real time either. Somethings stuck- like if I acquired a new royal arm- but I couldn’t change anything major. I couldn’t-” Noctis cut himself off. He swallowed against the heavy feeling in his chest and leaned back into the cushions. “Anyways. That isn’t that. This feels different. It feels wrong.” 

“And wrong is a good thing?” Regis asked, gentle and careful with his tone. 

“The other times never felt wrong. I was clear in where and when I was. I was clear in _who_ I was. This is- it’s not that. It’s- well, not my timeline. I just know.” 

“You seem to ‘know’ a great many things,” Clarus said with a deepening frown. 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Noctis asked, the words sharper than he had intended but, really, what exactly did Clarus mean by that? He took a breath and remembered that this wasn’t the man that he knew- the man who knew him. Noctis ducked his head just slightly. “Sorry. It’s been a long… decade.” 

Clarus spread his large hands out, not really looking any kinder for the action but at least not seeming to take undo offense to the words. “It’s my job. If you _are_ an older Noctis, you know that. I have to look at threats to Regis from the worst case scenario, and you present a whole lot of worst case scenarios. You could be telling the truth. You could be a bastard child of Mors trying to claim the throne. You could be the real Adagium and this is all a trick to gain favor. You could be some sort of Nif plant.” 

“Clarus, those are all absurd,” Regis said, wearily. He knew this man was his son- his magic told him as much. 

“The Mor’s one isn’t bad,” Cor chimed in, absolutely unrepentant at the glare that his King sent his way. 

“That’s the best one, I agree,” Clarus replied with a little nod. “And, yes, they are absurd. But so is a time traveling son from the future.” 

Noctis rubbed at his face. The unhooked and tapped up IV port in his hand pulled at the motion and made him wince slightly. “I don’t know what to say to convince you. Everything I said was the truth. What do you want, Clarus? You want the Ring of the Lucii? Here, this is the one from my time.” 

He yanked off the ring and tossed it onto the coffee table between them where it spun on the flat face where the fragments of crystal sat before teetering over. “But that does no good now that the stone’s cracked I bet. And even if it did it would only matter if Da- if Regis put it on and really, I don’t know what that could do to him considering- well- he’s already in the ring.” 

“Have you- have I? He? Has that Regis spoken to you since you’ve been here?” Regis asked, leaning forward to pick up the ring carefully, cradling it between his thumb and forefinger. He could feel the ring slotted carefully on his own finger hum in response to the close counterpart. 

“No,” Noctis said, frowning. “It’s- fuck I don’t know really how to explain this. How is the ring for you? How much of them can you hear?” 

“When I focus on it or meditate I can speak with them. It’s effects are stronger the closer to the Crystal I am, but I have never really tested the range. The few times I’ve been out of Insomnia since wearing it I’ve been… otherwise focused, but I do believe that it drops off some. There are also moments of heightened clarity about something from one of the embedded souls. If I call deeply on the power of the Crystal the sensation of the others is more intense.” 

“Alright,” Noctis said, giving a jerky nod. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands together as he tried to gather his thoughts. “So part of the whole… stay in the Crystal was about gaining its power and that of the Lucii. The level I’m at now- let’s just use Bahamut’s words- my powers are greater than that of the Six. Some of that’s the covenants I have with each of the Six but a lot of it’s about what I got from the Crystal. 

“You have to meditate to hear them. But for me? They can pop in to bitch at me whenever they want. And I have pretty clear access to their memories too. Except that it’s 113 of them all overlapping so it’s just- it’s like there’s a whole lot of radio stations playing at once. It’s hard to pick out any particular story from the hundred playing.” 

Noctis frowned down at the ground, shrugging. “So is that you still in there somewhere? Maybe. It would be hard to pick out unless I really made the effort and- ya, haven’t done that. But also _you’re_ here and clearly not in the Crystal so maybe that part was disconnected?” 

“I suppose,” Regis said slowly, eyes glued to Noctis as his son rubbed at his chest. “That it would depend on which Crystal you and the Ring are tied to- the one here or the one in your time. We will check on that when, and if, you are ready to.” 

“Regis-” Clarus started but was cut off with a raised hand. 

“We are not doing it now, Clarus. He is far too weak, and it’s not an ordeal that I will force him through. You know what a session with the Crystal does to me, and I am only tapped into it on a standard level,” Regis said. Reaching out to the Lucii was an overwhelming and draining experience and trying to tap deeply into memories specifically had always left him disoriented and a little ill to the stomach. “There are ancestors that have gone mad in an attempt to force that connection too deeply. To have access to that level of power constantly- well, that is something to be careful with or it could be disastrous." 

Noctis snorted in reply. “Sorry. You’re right. I’m just not sure it hasn’t already been disastrous. Three days ago I woke up in Angelgard and then I was dead. That’s pretty much how it was ordained to go. I wasn’t meant to live with this power.  


“I’m not going to go to the Crystal to prove it to you, Clarus. I’ve got the Ring. You’ve seen I can summon the royal arms _and_ the Sword of the Father. That shouldn’t even be there without the time jumps since it’s Regis’ arm.” It was getting progressively easier to remember not to call Regis ‘dad’, which was good even if it wounded him. He closed his eyes to steady himself and took some comfort in the magic reaching out to sooth him. This might not be his dad, not really, but it was still family. Noctis gave himself a moment to sink into the comfort. “Sorry you didn't get a better title than that.” 

“I rather don’t mind,” Regis murmured gently. “It is the title I have always been the most proud of.” 

Noctis swallowed hard at that and it was a long moment before he could continue. “Look, I’ve got in my jacket- wherever my clothing went- in the breast pocket of the jacket is something that will maybe convince you, Clarus.” 

The Shield didn’t move for a long moment before he nodded and got up to head into the bedroom, where Noctis presumed his clothing must be. 

Noctis sighed and turned his attention to Cor. “What about you, Cor? Any of that convince you?’ 

“I don’t need convincing, I believe you,” Cor said evenly. 

“What, not even a little doubt?” 

“I fought an undead ghost when I was 15 and came back alive, kid. This is no weirder,” Cor said, leaning back in his seat. He motioned lazily to Regis as he continued. “Besides- he believes you. That’s enough for me.” 

“I’d like to say that Cor has always had unshakable faith in me,” Regis drawled, “But I think the first few years, he would have stabbed me if Mors had ordered it.” 

“Fatally? Probably not. Little stabbing? Absolutely,” Cor deadpanned back. 

A little bark of laughter escaped Noctis at that. “Well, you are a Sword. There’s no doubting that.” 

“Is that what this other boy was for you? A Sword?” Clarus asked. He had reappeared in the doorway with an uneasy expression as he looked at the photograph in his hand. Noctis’ laughter died off sharply. 

“No,” Noctis managed after a moment. By that point, Clarus had come back over to the group. He handed the photo to Cor, who looked at it with an unreadable expression before handing it on to Regis. The corner of the photo was stained red with blood. “He’s- fuck, ‘was’ I guess is the right word now- he was my Heart.” 

“Gladio as your Shield then of course and Ignis as your Hand?” Regis asked, looking down at the photo of a son older than his Noctis but younger than the man sitting next to him. They were posed in front of the Regalia- happy and smiling. 

“Ya. They… they’ll be a good retinue for your Noctis- shit!” Noctis exclaimed, startling the other three men. “We’re going to have to make sure that mini-me still meets Prompto. There’s plenty I want to change, but that needs to still happen.” 

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Regis said, placatingly. He set the photo carefully down on the coffee table. “There’s time for that, I assume?” 

Noctis nodded. “I didn’t really become friends with him till the first day of high school, my timeline, but we knew of each other earlier. I can make sure that you get all the right info.” 

“And… do you not think you will be around to help make sure that happens yourself?” Regis asked. He was trying to be careful with his words, but still watched Noctis stiffen. “Glaive Ulric mentioned that you spoke of not being… particularly pleased to be alive. Is that because of the power you hold or because you don’t plan to be? I know that you must be hurting but it isn’t-” 

“Six, _no,_ I’m not going to- no,” Noctis said, cutting Regis off. He didn’t want his dad to _ever_ have to worry about that. “It’s- I’m right that you know about the prophecy?” 

“...Yes. I have since you were six.” 

“And do you know that it says I’ll need to die?” 

It was Regis who had to close his eyes to compose himself for a moment then. He forced them open soon after, making himself meet his son’s blue gaze. “Yes. But I’ll _never_ stop fighting for you to survive.” 

“Fuck, Dad. Sorry to tell you this, but you sort of-” Noctis was back in the throne room again- the smell of dust and blood filling his senses. He’d been pierced by weapon after weapon after weapon and now was having to beg his father to stab him- having to beg for his father to kill him. 

He was vaguely aware that he was shaking- his hand shuddered against his chest at the wound there where he had been stabbed twice over now by that sword. Crystalline blue magic sparked against his fingers and Noctis swore that he could still _feel_ the sword in his chest. 

“Noctis!” Regis tried again, louder this time. The other had gone so pale that his skin was practically grey and Regis was getting worried that Noctis would claw the chest wound back open at this rate. Motioning for Clarus to call for the doctor, Regis kept his focus on Noctis. The other’s magic was all splinters and sharp edges and it hurt to try and reach out but Regis still pushed forward every ounce of comfort and love that he could manage. 

“I don’t want to- I know you don’t want to- but you need to,” Noctis begged in soft, desperate gasps. “You need to. Dad- please-” 

Giving in against his better judgement, Regis reached out to grasp Noctis’ hands, nearly cursing at how cold the fingers were. He couldn’t let the other struggle like this any longer- not his son. Immediately, Noctis let out a shuddering whimper and went boneless against Regis in a slump. 

Regis gathered Noctis close as tremors still shook through his frame. It didn’t matter that the other was a grown man or from a different time- this was still his son and a son that was hurting so very deeply. Even knowing for a few years now that Noctis had a prophecy to die and that he might not be able to prevent it despite every effort to do so, Regis had never imagined that it would _break_ his son so deeply to travel the road to death. To break Noctis only to then kill him anyways seemed crueler than death alone. Regis had only, desperately, wanted his son to be happy in what life he could have. 

There was a shake in Regis’ hands now too as he gently ran his fingers through Noctis’ hair and hummed a lullaby that he hadn’t sung since his little Noctis had last come running to him with a nightmare. Gently, carefully, he wrapped this Noctis up in the embrace of his arms and his magic. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we get to the meat of some of what is effecting Noctis going forward- a rather unfortunate combination of his shattered magic and his mental state playing off each other in the worst ways. General disclaimer that this is not meant to be a medically accurate showcase of PTSD or panic attacks and only my own knowledge/experiences as it might play out in this fantasy setting with what Noct has gone through.
> 
> Also, not vilifying Clarus here- he has an important job and someone had to ask the hard questions! It's not an easy circumstance for anyone... even if Regis and him have it out a little next chapter over it.
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **Next Chapter:**  
>  Regis huffed at that and crossed his arms as he leaned back to study his Shield. “And what now then? Do you trust me now? Or am I going to have to be ready for him to break again after another round of interrogation?”
> 
> “Bahamut’s balls Regis, I didn’t mean to hurt the man! Or break him! This was me trying to get answers. This was me protecting you- because someone has to,” Clarus said, throwing his hands up as he rose to pace.


	4. Arguments and Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains dealing with past temporary death.

Cor closed the door to the suite behind the doctor. She had chosen to sedate Noctis, not wanting to risk any new damage to his lungs or chest wound from the rising panic that he was locked in. Regis didn’t like the decision, not when Noctis was unable to consent to it, but he understood that the risk was too great. The doctor had pointed out that there would be time to seek less drastic measures of help in the long run, but at the moment having Noctis safe and resting was the most important thing. 

Regis looked up as Clarus came close with a glass of water in each hand. Passing one to Regis, Clarus set the other glass down next to him as he sat and asked, “How much of that was PTSD and how much of it was what he spoke about with his powers? That seemed… to come on suddenly.” 

“Triggers can be like that,” Cor answered. “Seen enough soldiers have episodes to know it can be the little things that are the worst. And he _is_ a soldier. It’s clear he’s seen plenty of action and we know that he’s killed.” 

“Yes… and his connection to the Crystal wouldn’t help either,” Regis said, frowning at the other Ring of the Lucii that sat innocently on the coffee table on top of the photo. “He’s got the past of every King and Queen of Lucis haunting him. But this reaction-” 

Regis closed his eyes. The sound of this son begging him fresh in his ears. “I am pretty sure this was of his own making, not theirs. We pushed too hard- much of that conversation could have waited.” 

“I needed to be sure, Regis, you know that,” Clarus said. He was frowning when Regis opened his eyes to glare at his Shield. 

“What _I know_ is that you should have trusted my word on this!” Regis snapped. 

“We didn’t know for sure what _this_ was,” Clarus argued back. 

“My magic did!” 

“Your magic knew that he felt like another Lucis Caelum, Regis, that’s all.” 

“You act as if I don’t know what my own son’s core feels like!” 

Clarus sighed, pinching tightly at the bridge of his nose. “No, Regis, I act as if you’ve only met two others of your family in your whole life until a few days ago- your father and your son. So this stranger comes in with a core that feels like your son but that you say is broken and fractured. How can I put all my faith in the fact that you can see through that destruction to actually tell it’s the core of your son in a man that is 20 years his senior? 

“What if all that mess only made it seem like your son’s core? I needed to be alert and aware of _any_ threat to you- you know that Regis! And a stranger that you trust so suddenly and so implicitly? That is a threat- blood of your family or no. We know he’s powerful Regis- more than any of us are.” 

Regis huffed at that and crossed his arms as he leaned back to study his Shield. “And what now then? Do you trust me now? Or am I going to have to be ready for him to break again after another round of interrogation?” 

“Bahamut’s balls Regis, I didn’t mean to hurt the man! Or break him! This was me trying to get answers. This was me protecting you- because someone has to,” Clarus said, throwing his hands up as he rose to pace. Stopping after a few back and forths, he heaved a sigh and looked down at the picture where his own grown son stared back at him. “And, yes, for what it’s worth I believe him now. It’s a mad story, but there’s enough there that I have to believe that it’s the truth. Especially since you and Cor seem ready to beat it into me if I _don’t_ believe it.” 

“Don’t be dramatic Clarus,” Cor said evenly, “I would’ve let our King do all the beating. He’s got some rage to work out, I think.” 

“Do shut it, Cor,” Regis huffed back. He knew that his retinue had his back, there wasn’t a single shred of doubt about that. Clarus would always be looking out for him- staying two steps ahead of some invisible plan, and Cor would always be there to fling himself in danger if it could bring them even an inch closer to victory. Used to it or not- grateful for it or not- he still didn't have to always like it, even if he would always be grateful for his bound brothers that _had_ remained by his side through all of this. Still, he perhaps had been too harsh on Clarus. Gently, he reached out along their bond to soothe his Shield. He felt a grudging acceptance back. 

Regis turned his attention to the photo again. “...there is also the matter of his bonds, as far as his mental and magical stability go.” 

“So they are broken,” Cor said, frowning. They’d all seen what that sort of trauma could do when some of Mor’s bonds were severed. They had all _felt_ a lesser extent of it when Cid and Weskhams’ bonds were carefully sealed off. 

“Yes. I can’t feel any bonds coming from him other than familial. One to myself of course and a faint one reaching out to Noctis- our Noctis. I have to assume that just as his core is different now so would be the souls of Gladiolus, Ignis, and this Prompto from his time. Even though those three are still here now, they are not who he bonded with. No connection is seeming to form.” 

“Which is for the best,” Clarus said, proactively holding up a hand to stop any arguments that Regis might try to start. “He would have taken that chance away from our Noctis. Besides which, being bonded with children less than half his age wouldn’t have been any use to his mental state, even if having no bounds is a poor situation." 

Regis conceded the point with a sigh and a nod. “No, you are quite right, Clarus. They aren’t his and I believe that he knows that, or bonds would have tried to form. Still, being as powerful as he is without a full retinue, much less without a single bond? It is a very real issue for his long term stability here.” 

“Can someone else take the role of a bond that has been broken?” 

“It has been done, supposedly, but my understanding is that it is not an easy thing. That said, there is always the matter of the Sword. From the sound of it, he never took one before and certainly the easiest thing would be to find someone to fill that role.” 

“Should I start a list of candidates from the Crownsguard?” Cor asked. 

“Perhaps, yes. But do so quietly,” Regis said, pursing his lips. He wasn’t sure that an assigned retinue was right after so much loss. Besides which, it wasn’t as if Noctis was still a child who could grow connections with a retinue as they aged. Finding someone who was just right to fit in the space that was already there would not be easy. “A single member may not even be that much help, what with the damage there is. But it does not hurt any to have people already in mind if it comes to it.” 

“Then Cor will work on that," Clarus agreed. "In the meantime the doctor has some medication and techniques in mind. Both of those are good things to have in place if he will be staying around. We do have to accept that-” 

“Clarus. No.” 

“Regis, I know you hate the thought, but yes. Even he's not sure that he'll be staying alive. It is best to keep the possibility in mind that this might all be… temporary.” 

“Are you purposefully trying to piss me off today, Clarus, or is that just an added benefit to this whole shit show? We are not going to spend our time treating him like a walking corpse! Until we know _anything_ for certain- and with the gods, we may never know anything- we are proceeding with the assumption that he is _staying alive_ and that we will be doing everything- and I do mean everything- that we can to make sure he stays that way. And that is final, Clarus. Are we understood?” 

Clarus stared Regis down for a long moment before he gave a slight nod of his head. “Yes, Your Majesty.” 

“Oh don’t get pedantic with me, Clarus,” Regis snapped back. His words were muffled as he rubbed at his face. He loved Clarus like a brother, really, but that didn’t stop the urge to stab the other sometimes. They were both just too strong willed to not have the occasional fight. “Right now, we have to figure out what the story is that we are going to tell the public.” 

“How far will the truth be known?” Cor asked, chiming in now that the fighting seemed to be done. 

“As of now, this room is it. When he’s older, possibly Noctis- our Noctis. Likely the Oracle will need to be briefed if we can find a secure way to do so. This is her destiny also, after all. But the less people that know, the better.” 

“What are our options then with the truth out of the questions?” Clarus asked. Quickly he added, “Which I _agree with_ , Regis, so don’t start.” 

“He could go into hiding- live somewhere remote,” Cor suggested. “He’s given more than enough of himself to protect this world and earn that rest. It could be best for his mental health too, to be away from the Crystal. No, Regis, don’t start glaring at me too.” 

Regis sighed, “No- you are right. It could be easier on him. I do not know if he could stay secret for long though. The people know there’s another member of the royal family now and they’ll look for him. Niflhiem will look for him. And besides…” 

“He’s family. And you’d rather have him close,” Cor finished for his king. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. “Well, maybe Clarus has the right idea then.” 

“And what idea is that? I’m not exactly on the favroite’s list tonight,” Clarus pointed out, raising a brow at Cor who merely gave a one shouldered shrug. 

“That he’s Mors’ second kid. Old Mors was paranoid enough for it to be something that he thought of- to make sure to have a spare heir around somewhere outside of Insomnia in case the city fell.” 

“That could work… It would mean that he acted before the worst of the current conflict and the Wall pulled back,” Clarus said slowly, clearly chewing the idea over. 

“That timeline might be best anyways,” Regis said honestly. “Before the war was as full on, he would’ve had the time and safety to act.” 

“So he sires another son- perhaps with one of the displaced nobles from Accordo? And sets her up in the countryside to raise the child. But then the war happened in renewed earnest and it becomes all the more important that he stays secret,” Clarus said, continuing the story out. 

“Doesn’t put Mors in the bet light, not bringing him in when the Wall was pulled back,” Cor pointed out. 

“No, but… well, we all knew my father," Regis said. “The nation before all else. And then it was only four years between the Wall and him dying- not quite even that. With so much going on it wouldn’t have been a priority. Everything was such a mess.” 

“And then, what with you busy with the royal arms and taking on more duties, he died without ever telling you,” Clarus finished up. “There are some gaps to be worked out, but other Noctis should have a say in those details so that thing can make sense for the way he is and the powers he has. The story would hold though. It’s not something anyone can disprove either.” 

“Clarus, we can’t call him ‘other Noctis’,” Cor pointed out. 

“No, we can’t. His name is one more thing we must ask him to give up,” Regis said with a sigh. “I don’t suppose you still have that book of baby names around from when Iris was born, do you Clarus?” 

Cor snorted. “A lot of good it even did him- as if they weren’t going to pick a flower.” 

Frowning, Clarus reached out to smack at Cor’s shoulder, the other moving easily out of the way with a chuckle. 

* * *

Noctis woke to voices drifting through the door that had been left cracked open. It felt like it took ages to focus enough to pick out the voices as Cor, Clarus, and his dad- no, as Regis. There was no guard in the room with him, though he caught a glimpse of one outside on the balcony. He focused on slowly sitting up. Pain bit through his back and chest and he had to take several minutes to just breath past the sensation. He figured the lack of a tube running to his IV had something to do with the increase in pain levels. When he could move, Noctis carefully slipped the oxygen mask off and made his way to the door, pushing it a little more open. 

“Regis, no, you can’t do that,” Noctis heard Clarus say in an exasperated tone. He could see Regis, part of Cor, and food spread in front of them. It must have been the smell of food that woke him, Noctis decided as his stomach rumbled softly. He shook his head, trying to focus on the conversation. It was hard, his head was full of static and the renewed whispering of the Lucii now that the medication was starting to wear off. 

“I think,” Regis said smugly, “That you’ll find as King, I can do most things that I want.” 

“You know what I mean- you _shouldn’t_ do that, Regis. It will only make everything harder.” 

Regis stuck his tongue out at Clarus and Noctis snorted at the unkingly act. Immediately the noise drew the attention of the others. Sucking up his courage, Noctis slipped out the door into the living space. He ducked his head just slightly, scratching at the back of his neck. “Ah… I’m sorry about earlier.” 

“Don’t be,” Regis said gently. “It’s understandable, with all you’ve been through. I would like to speak with you about it, so that we know how to help avoid triggering such a reaction in the future, but we can have that talk later. Right now, why don’t you sit and eat. Clarus can put you together a plate.” 

Clarus was already moving before Regis finished talking and Noctis gave in without protest. Cor shifted some folders off the crowded table and shortly a plate was sat in front of Noctis. Noctis took the opportunity to hide behind the act of eating for a bit to avoid having to speak further. 

Regis was more amused than he should be that even an adult, Noctis still shoved the vegetables unsubtly to the side of his plate. “How are you feeling?” 

Noctis shrugged. “Better- and worse?” 

“The doctor was hesitant to give you more pain medication, what with the sedation.” 

“Ya, I’m feeling that some for sure.” 

“Ah, your back…?” Regis asked, hating that the marilith attack would hurt his son forever. 

“And my chest some, too. Guess I get to hurt on both sides now,” he joked. The look on Regis’ face instantly made him regret the sour humor. “It’s fine, really. The back and knee aren’t so bad most days, as long as I don’t do anything too stupid. Hopping through time? That counts as stupid.” 

Regis pursed his lips in a tight frown. “We’ll have to talk through this with your doctor to make sure that we get the right medications for you to manage your pain.” 

“That assumes… that I’m staying around,” Noctis pointed out. 

“Yes, it does,” Regis said firmly, pushing his confidence about the matter into his words and magic both. “Until we know otherwise, that is the way we are proceeding. And don’t argue- I’ve already been through this with Clarus, and if I can convince him, I can convince you. I would rather not have to go through it a second time though.” 

Noctis chuckled wearily. “You’re more… obstinate than I remember.” 

“I’m sure he just didn't want to show what a stubborn old man he was to his son,” Clarus commented dryly. “Because, trust me, he’s always been this obstinate. No, I take that back. He used to be worse.” 

Amused, Noctis shook his head and set his fork down. He crossed his arms, his right hand resting absently on his sternum, pressing his palm against the ache in his chest there. “Alright, so then what’s the plan? If you convinced Clarus, you must have one.” 

“We do,” Regis agreed. “There are two options that we have. One is that you vanish and we set you up with a place somewhere remote to live in. But that would put you at risk to the Empire or enthusiastic strangers hunting you down. It would also mean that I would not be able to stay in contact with you and, to be perfectly honest, I would very much like to get to know the man you have become. If this is all time travel, my- the Noctis of this time won’t grow up to be the same man that you are. And I would feel bereft without the chance to get to know you.” 

Regis could feel Noctis’ surprise at his words. Noctis’ face might not have changed much- just a slight widening of those ever so blue eyes- but the shift where their magic was connected was clear. He felt his son reach out to him more firmly than he had since that first, surprised moment in the fight. Regis gently responded back in the like. 

“So,” Noctis started and then cleared his throat to try again. “So, the second option is me staying here then? How do we explain that?” 

“What Clarus suggested in jest earlier,” Regis said, motioning to the man. “We claim that you are a half brother. A son of Mors’ who he had raised outside of the city walls in case Insomnia were to fall. My father could be a little paranoid-” 

_Vulnerable- At Risk- Holes in the security- The Niffs were getting too bold._ Mors howled in Noctis mind. _He needed to prepare for them. He needed to have plans. Things needed to be done. He needed-_

Regis cut through the chatter of the dead man. “When the war started in earnest, I was on my quest for the royal arms and things moved very quickly after that. Mors’ abrupt death left me unaware of your existence and you in danger of the Empire with the Wall pulled back. We need the rest of the story, but we felt that is something that you should have a say in. There are several missing years to explain, depending on your age.” 

“30- I’m 30, nearing 31,” Noctis said. “But ten of those… well I said as much, sort of, when I explained things, but ten of those years I spent in the Crystal. Time is… weird in there. It felt like forever was passing. I was sort of drifting while I learned things from the Crystal and the Lucii. But also it felt like no time at all had passed. It… well, it just means that going by the others I should physically be 30. I can’t be sure though, not with how the Crystal affects aging. Mentally? Somewhere between 20 and 2000. So you can pick any age that works, really.” 

Regis took a moment to mentally steady himself at the details of the event. It was no wonder that Noctis’ core was so broken- or that his mind was also. “You were… in the Crystal after entering Niflheim, correct?”  


“Ya, we entered Gralea and I was split off from the others and… captured? I wasn’t exactly captured, I guess, but held by Ardyn. He knew exactly what was going to happen with the Crystal. It was all part of his plan- everything was until the very end.” 

“I don’t know how you want to account for magic,” Cor said. He sounded angry. It wasn’t Cor’s subtle sort of anger that was hard to pick up under the normal gruffness either, but a cold, sharp anger. “But I would call that imprisoned. If you went in against your will and couldn’t come out? Protected by the Crystal or not, you were a prisoner of war, Noctis. You were one for ten years.” 

Noctis focused down at his plate, not looking at any of the others. He swallowed hard and wished a bit that he’d taken the oxygen machine out to the living room with him. It was hard to breathe for a moment. There had been no time to focus on what had happened to him- no time to mourn any of it. Every moment in the Crystal was about gaining the power that he needed. His time and thoughts were hardly his own as knowledge and memories and lessons were forced through his mind so that he could earn the power that was his birthright- his destiny. 

“In fact,” Cor continued, the cold tone replaced by one that for the Marshal was gentle. “It sounds a lot like torture to me.” 

“Right. So. Imprisoned by Niflheim works for ten years at least,” Noctis rasped. 

Likely picking up the obvious need to move on, Clarus said, “So that puts you at 20 when you went in. If we keep you 30 now, we can keep that date. It’s something I suggest we do- keep your age the same as you know it. The more we lie, the harder it is to keep everything straight and so the best lies are built on truths. That puts you, at the moment, ten years younger than Regis, and when the war started you would have been about ten and then at 15 when Regis was crowned. 

“It’s not exactly old enough to be on your own, but this idiot was joining the army earlier than that,” Clarus said with a nod to an unabashed Cor. For a moment, Noctis could see it clearly- a Cor so young that Noctis might not have recognized him if it weren’t for the determined expression on Cor’s face. There was blood dripping down his forehead and Cor reached up to wipe it away, a smear of red mingling with blood on his hand from the assassin that he had just killed. Noctis shook the borrowed memory away as Clarus continued. 

“So somewhere between ten and 15 you ended up solo and then in Niflheim by 20. That is a sizable gap but with the war and how hard the Empire was pushing right then there are ways to play that. You were on the run or such and eventually ended up captured due to your magic and obviously bloodline.” 

“You were protecting people,” Regis interjected. “The easiest answer is that you were protecting people on the edges of Lucis. I take it that helping people is not something too far off from what you truly were doing when you were in Lucis and gathering the Arms?” 

“No- I mean, that’s basically it. And taking out Niff bases.” 

“So then that is the story. You went after the troops, perhaps after your home fell, and worked to protect people. Fighting without magic when around others and raining hell down with it when alone. We can easily start a few rumors about it and the people will do the rest- just to seem like they have a special story of you. It is not like Niflheim will be able to refute and of it really, not with their chancellor attacking us.” 

“Oh- fuck,” Noctis said, going a little pale again. 

“Noctis? What is it?” Regis asked carefully, fearing another panic attack. 

“There’s two of me here now, right? So there would be two of Ardyn. I don’t know if- he could be dead, right? He’s basically a bag of daemons in a skin sack so maybe when I killed Ardyn- my Ardyn- and the- wait, fuck, that only works if this is all over…” 

“There was a large explosion of power when you were… impaled,” Regis explained. “They’ve been calling it the Burst. We’re getting word of an odd absence of daemons, but we haven’t been able to confirm it fully. So far Bahamut has been… quiet on the matter, not that such behavior is unusual.” 

“I’m sure he’s pissed off that his grand prophecy didn’t go the way he wanted,” Noctis bit. “But then, until we can be sure we need to expect a possible round two of that fight.” 

“We have been keeping Prince Noctis inside the Citadel and, except for the press conference on the steps, Regis has been inside also,” Clarus confirmed. “We’ve increased guards on all major figures and buildings. All possible precautions are being taken.” 

“Good. Just- well, you saw. He’s powerful and that was him after he and I had already slugged it out a few times." 

“I’ll try to get in touch with Bahamut through the Crystal again,” Regis said, frowning. 

“No- don’t bother with the bastard. He probably won’t tell you the truth anyways,” Noctis said, rubbing at his face and feeling positively ancient. “Give me a few days and I can call on Ramuh or Shiva. They’re agreeable. Or- well…” 

Noctis tilted his head back to blink up at the ceiling. Very, _very_ carefully he gathered up just a little bit of his power- just enough to force intent into his words, “Gentiana? We need to talk.” 

“The Oracle’s messenger? Do you think she will come?” Regis asked. It was a good idea, but as far as he understood, she stayed close by her Lady’s side. 

“Maybe? She showed up a lot on the trip to talk or sometimes just be in the background of Prom’s photos. Carbuncle did too, but less often,” Noctis said before turning his head to cough into his shoulder. Cor rose from the table and came back a moment later with the small oxygen machine. Noctis grimaced, but put the mask on and took a grateful inhale of oxygen. 

He didn’t have the mask on long before a telltale creep of cold air filled the room. The other three’s attention snapped to the window where Gentiana was standing, hands clasped demurely in front of her and eyes closed. 

“Greetings, O’ King of Kings,” she said in her soft tone as Noctis stood and turned to face her. 

“Gentiana. How is Luna? This- none of this hurt her, right?” he asked. It wasn’t what he had called her there for, but now that she was in front of him it’s all that he could think to ask her. 

The messenger god smiled, softly, and gave a slight title of her head. “She is well, King. While she could feel the change in the world, she was harmed by none of it. A few restless nights, we could agree I think, is a small price to pay for such a result.” 

“Good, that’s good. She was still there in the Beyond after I killed Ardyn so I was…” 

“Understandable. But you need not to fear for my Lady of this time. She is as safe as she is able to be, with the Empire still in her home.” 

“That’s something I will see rectified,” Noctis said with a frown. “Have I changed everything now? Our destiny? Is the Starscorge gone?” 

“Yes, Chosen King, the Starscouge has been purged from this world. The people of Eos are once more safe from the sickness that it had brought. This world is in a time of light again.” 

“That’s- are you sure? No offense, but it’s just… I’m still alive. You know the prophecy better than I do. You know the price was my life.” 

“The price has been paid, King. The life you had no longer exists. No longer will your friends grow up to be the same people. They will not have the same experiences. No one but you will know or remember or live any of those things. And you have died. While you live again, part of you has stayed dead,” Gentiana replied, calmly. 

“Not just figuratively either, right?” Noctis said, reaching up to rub at his chest where he could still feel the ache of the blades. Gentiana reached out, arm stretched towards the spot and for a moment the ghostly blue Sword of the Father could be seen- still stabbed through Noctis’ chest. His whole body jerked and arched against the blade before it faded again in a scatter of blue light. 

“Correct, King. The part of you tied to your timeline to ensure that the Oracle could reach through the Beyond and purge the Accursed was severed when reality snapped into place around this time. Part of you could not return- it died with your world. Neither exist any longer and so you shall never be whole again. For that, I am sorry.” 

Noctis gave a short, bitter laugh at that. Very carefully, he didn’t look at his father- didn’t respond to the magic reaching out to comfort him. “It was called the World of Ruin, I think it’s better gone. There wasn’t much left anyways. But it’s done, and… this world I’ll make sure is better for it.” 

Stepping forward, Gentiana shed her form like a discarded robe and stopped in front of Noctis as Shiva. Everyone in the room ignored Clarus’ unfortunately worded ‘Shiva’s tits, she’s Shiva’, though the corner of Shiva’s mouth may have ticked up just slightly. She reached out and rested her hands on either side of Noctis’ face. He closed his eyes, startled as always at how gentle such a cold touch could be. Letting himself be pulled down slightly, Shiva brushed an icy kiss against his forehead. 

“Your price was too great and yet you bear it with the grace of your title, King of Kings,” she said, pulling back enough to meet deep azure with her own icy gaze. “I wish I could have spared you the pain, but I rejoice that you still yet live. And you have much life left to live. Here you are free now- no longer chosen, but still beloved. May you find your peace in the lives and the world that you have saved.” 

Shiva released Noctis and took a step back. He made himself take a breath, ignoring how shaky it was as he watched the goddess smile, give the faintest of bows, and disappear into a shimmer of snow and frost. He made himself take another breath as he watched the ice on the carpet start to melt. He closed his eyes and took a third breath. He was alive. 

Noctis sunk back into the chair, leaning heavily into it as he rubbed at his face. Shakily he said, “Well. That’s good news.” 

“We will send forces out to continue to confirm that there are no longer any daemons spawning,” Regis said, watching his older son- future son? He was still unsure of how to refer to the other in his head, but no matter the title, he was worried for him. He reached out again to comfort Noctis, both with his magic but also with a gentle hand on Noctis’ arm. He was glad when he wasn’t rebuffed this time. “Not that we have reason to doubt a goddess, but we will need to confirm matters for the official records and for assuring the people.” 

“No, that makes sense. Shiva’s pretty trustworthy, but she’s still… the gods are a bit detached from all of this. They can be odd about things. You’ll let me know what they find?” 

“Of course, Noctis.” 

Cor leaned forward, “I’d like to get eyes on things myself.” 

“Of course you would,” Regis said with a sigh. “But it would be good to have your word also. We’ll get that arranged shortly. Until then, I think we could all use a bit of rest and then to iron out the details of the cover story. Once we have everything confirmed, I will speak with the people. This will be a very grand thing for all of Eos. 

Noctis managed to give a little nod to that as he leaned back and closed his eyes. Despite having just woken, he felt as if every fragment of energy had drained from his body from just the little bit of magic used to call Shiva. He hoped that things really would be alright now, if he could only figure out all of the pieces. There were so many things to keep track of that he needed to fix still and it felt like all of them were slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. There was something important… 

“Noctis?” Regis asked, worried about how Noctis seemed to just droop. Regis’ voice cut through the clamor of long dead memories that were starting up to demand attention again. 

“Sorry- just… tired.” 

“Back to bed then. You are here, and you are staying here. We have time now to figure this all out,” Regis assured him. 

“Right, ya,” Noctis agreed absently. He let Regis take him by the elbow and help him stand. Barely aware of it, Notis was settled in bed, oxygen resting on the side table, and tucked in by the father that wasn’t his. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note, the last chapter, this, and those going forward aren't beta read so all horrible misuse of commas and spelling mistakes are my own.
> 
> Some of you may have seen me posting things for rare pair week (it hasn't delayed this fic at all, no worries there!), and I posted some NyxNoct art at [clockwaysarts on tumblr](https://clockwaysarts.tumblr.com/post/642947348013760512/a-super-soft-nyxnoct-piece-for-day-5-of-ffxv-rare) and [clockways on twitter.](https://twitter.com/clockways/status/1360313328061599748) from this universe and then a NyxNoct 'canon' piece here Saturday if all you lovelies would like to check those out!
> 
> Also Nyx shows up again in the next chapter, I promise! And Noctis deals with the matter of names...
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **Next Chapter:**  
>  “I don’t know what I expected, for a man who literally named me ‘night light’,” Noctis said, voice muffled by both the oxygen mask and his hands over his face. 
> 
> “Filius is a perfectly fine name,” Regis said, primly, but Noctis could hear the smile in his voice. (A fact that Regis was well aware of.)
> 
> Turning his head just enough to glare at Regis with one eye, Notice said, “It means ‘son’. We are trying to pretend I’m, not your son, Regis. No.”


	5. A New Start

It was slow going for Noctis to heal. Even if he thought that it was cowardly to be hiding from the world in the Citadel, he was grateful for the time: time for wounds to scab over, time to try and stem the breaking of his core, time to let the media storm of Insomnia die down a little- just… time. Time was such an odd thing to Noctis, after his years in the Crystal, and it felt as if he kept losing himself from the present. 

As much as it chafed to give up those pieces of himself, they had gone with the Mors story. It really was the best way to go, even Noctis could admit that. His real story didn't need to be out there to the general public. Official announcement had kept the story as broad as possible so that the little things could be filled in as they watched reactions. As far as the public was concerned, he was Mors’ son and that fact had been confirmed by the Crystal. They gave the general explanation they had worked out for his time away and the King’s rumor mill was tactfully at work to help make it stick. 

The council had received a more detailed story of his time helping the people and his capture by the Empire. Both the council and the public were told of the destruction of the daemons to what resulted in a week of celebrations. Regis credited Noctis for as much of it as he could, though Noctis had insisted that Regis made it clear he had assisted in the battle. Clarus and Cor had both sided with Noctis, pointing out that it could only help bolster Regis’ public image and, as they were still in a war, such boosts to morale were invaluable. Reluctantly, Regis had agreed, and so the official story was that the brothers had taken down the Adagium together with Noctis in the lead and the blessing of the Astrals with him. 

‘Brother’ was a word that Noctis was still having to get used to using. It was safer to think of Regis simply by his name still, rather than going for ‘brother’ and accidentally saying ‘dad’. Worse yet was getting used to calling himself ‘Oriens’. Giving up his name was better than giving up his life, of course, but it had felt like one more sacrifice ripped out of him. Picking a name with his dad, with Regis, had been an experience. 

“I don’t know what I expected, from a man who literally named me ‘night light’,” Noctis said, voice muffled by both the oxygen mask and his hands over his face. 

“Filius is a perfectly fine name,” Regis said, primly, but Noctis could hear the smile in his voice. (A fact that Regis was well aware of.) 

Turning his head just enough to glare at Regis with one eye, Notice said, “It means ‘son’. We are trying to pretend I’m not your son. Regis, no.” 

“Alright, alright. So no ‘N’ names-” 

“I don’t want to risk getting confused.” 

“Valid,” Regis agreed. He hummed softly and made sure to keep his tone gentle as he suggested. “Perhaps something from your journey in the other time? To honor it.” 

Regis was well aware that talking about the other time was very hard for Noctis and that things went easiest when the subject was approached as cautiously as possible. Even now Noctis wore a frown as he gave a little shrug. 

“I suppose that could be nice…” 

“With that as a starting point then, we could look at some names based on chosen, blessed, champion…” 

“All those are horrible. Who would name their kid ‘champion’?” Noctis groused. 

“Mors would have,” Regis pointed out with a chuckle. “He _did_ name me ‘king’, after all.” 

“Ya but Mors isn’t- at least he’s not _really_ my dad,” Noctis said, brows pinching together as he struggled to find the right words. “I still… I still want a name that you and Mom would’ve given me. I can’t keep Noctis, I know that but…” 

Regis reached out and squeezed Noctis’ hand. “Obviously we went with Noctis, but it wasn’t the only name we had in mind. Assuming you were a boy, another name that we strongly considered was Oriens.” 

“Oriens? What does that mean.” 

“Dawn- dawn and the East. A new day. It would be fitting. You said there had been an endless darkness?” 

“They called it the Long Night. My death was supposed to bring the light back, bring a new dawn… Oriens, huh? I, ya, I like that.” 

“Then, officially, welcome to the family, Oriens,” Regis said, smiling. 

Shaking his head out of the memory, Noctis took a breath and gave himself one last moment to be _Noctis_. Then, he swallowed that grief down with all the others that churned in his gut. He was Oriens now. He brought the world a new dawn and with it he would have a new life. 

As he had continued to improve, Oriens expanded the bounds of where he lurked in the Citadel. The first step to leave the suite that had become his home for reasons other than trips to the medical wing. It felt surreal to be wandering around the family wing in sweatpants and a tee. It wasn’t as if he didn’t do it once or twice as a teen, but now he was thirty and the servants and guards that he passed looked at him with a level of awe that he wasn’t accustomed to. There was no way he was going to struggle with real pants right then though with his back acting up, so he figured he simply had to come to terms with this weirdness also. 

Doctor’s orders in mind, he tried to leave his suite every day for at least a short walk. These walks were rather simple- just back and forth through the halls or to the sitting room for a change of scenery. The unexpected benefit of walking the same path every day was that it helped quiet the voices of the dead that whispered in his mind. The Lucii had so much to say about _everything_ in the Citadel. Those who had lived there had memories of the place- things that had happened and people they expected to see- and even though who had lived before the Citadel’s construction might recognize a painting or a tapestry or statue. Or they just had something petty to say back to a different deceased Lucis Caelums. 

The more times he walked a path, the less and less the dead had to say about matters. Day after day, voices dropped off till there was only the occasional voice chiming in. It was almost worse when it was only one speaking instead of dozens. The hum of many voices was easier to ignore as background noise, like voices at a party, than it was to ignore one voice speaking as clearly as if someone was standing next to him. The first few times only one of them had spoken up out of the silence Oriens had actually turned to look for who had spoken. He was sure it did nothing for his image to be startled in the halls like that. 

Today the voices were blessedly quiet. 

Today the walk to the sitting room, guards shadowing him as he went, didn’t leave him exhausted or reaching for the oxygen that he still carried with him. Despite feeling better, he gratefully sunk into the couch once he was in the room. One guard stayed outside and the other slipped in to stand guard by the door. Mind blessedly free of the chatter and memories of the dead, Oriens made a concentrated effort to focus on the here and now, and he found that it was Nyx Ulric standing guard inside of the door. 

“You must be getting really sick of this posting,” Oriens said. His voice was still a little hoarse, but he was glad to at least be starting to sound more like himself. He didn’t have much of himself left to be, after all. 

“Your Highness?” Nyx answered, honestly confused for a moment at being addressed. With the exception of that first day, his postings watching over Oriens had been mostly silent affairs. Nyx looked over at the new royal now, taking him in. Oriens’ eyes did seem clearer and more focused, making Nyx wonder if the previous silence hadn’t been mostly about the pain and whatever medication the other must have been on. 

“You don’t have to… ‘Your Highness’ me. I’m not the King or the Prince,” Oriens said, scowling. 

“I’m afraid that’s not how it was explained to us, Your Highness,” Nyx said, the corner of his mouth just ticking up into a smirk that he failed to completely suppress. “It’s how we were instructed that you should be addressed.” 

Letting out a huff of a breath, Oriens turned to lean back against the arm of the sofa so that he could watch Nyx without having to twist so much. “Is that so? Even if I order you not to?” 

“I’m afraid so, Your Highness,” Nyx said again, sure he was completely failing at hiding his smirk now. Oriens’ snort pretty much confirmed that. 

“Alright, fine. Not worth the fight. Still, I’m sorry. This must be boring.” 

Nyx started to reply before his brain caught up to him that even if it was easy to relax around the other, Oriens _was_ still royalty. After a beat he said instead, “It’s nothing, Your Highness.” 

“Nope, screw that. What were you really going to say?” asked Oriens, crossing his arms loosely. 

Nyx shifted his weight, nervously, hand rubbing at the back of his neck for a moment. Abashedly, he said, “That every guard duty is boring anyways, so it’s not like you have anything to be sorry for?” 

Another snort of laughter made Nyx glance up again, trying to get a read on Oriens’ expression. It was a little hard to tell, but Nyx was pretty sure that Oriens was more amused than offended. 

“Ya- I could see that. I could never do it- I’d just end up falling asleep,” Oriens said with a little shrug. “I guess, I’m sorry you’re on guard duty at all then. That seems a shit reward for saving the Prince’s life.” 

“I didn’t really- that was you,” Nyx pointed out. He shut up as Oriens held up a hand and shook his head. 

“Sure, I ended it, but I was seconds too late to arrive. If you hadn’t acted, Noctis would be dead, plain and simple. Learn to take a compliment, Hero,” Oriens said, using the nickname without really thinking about it. He watched Nyx’s eyes widen in surprise as he shifted on his feet again. 

“I’m not a hero,” Nyx said. 

At least if Nyx hadn’t earned the nickname yet, it saved Oriens from knowing things he shouldn’t have. “You are. At least you were then, and I get the feeling that you’re the type that will be again. How long have you been a Glaive?” 

“Coming up on eight months, sir.” 

“Six-please don’t ‘sir’ me- even ‘Your Highness’ is better than that,” Orien balked, and then added, “My name is still better though.” 

Oriens sound so offended that Nyx couldn’t help the unbridled smile this time. “Nope, sorry, Your Highness. It seems that you’re stuck with ‘Your Highness’, Your Highness.” 

“Insufferable, Hero, that’s what you are,” Oriens groused. He was just barely smiling as he tacked on, “See if I don’t kick your ass for it one day.” 

“What, going to show up to the training grounds for a fight?” 

“I just might. I got to get my feet back under me eventually and you could be good practice,” Oriens said, thoughtlessly bringing his hand up to rub at his chest. He only noticed what he was doing because Nyx tracked the motion. Oriens made himself abort the act with a frown. 

There was a moment of stifling silence before Nyx asked, “Can I be blunt for a second?” 

“I always liked blunt better,” Oriens replied with a shrug. 

“I know you’ve got a way to go, but it’s good to see you doing better today. You’ve been… a bit of a ghost the other times. This is a good change, seeing you more present. Even if you turned out to be a bit snarky.” 

“Nyx- you haven’t seen snarky yet,” Oriens replied with a little huff of a laugh. 

“I’ll look forward to training then,” Nyx said. A knock at the door made him straighten back up to a proper at ease position and he found himself tensing as if a fight was about to happen. Oriens certainly couldn’t protect himself right then if the person on the other side of the door was a danger, and Nyx found himself perfectly willing to step up and protect the other instead. 

The tension left him as the door opened to the King. Hand over his heart, Nyx bowed to his liege. 

“At ease, Glaive Ulric,” Regis said with a nod. Following the king in was his ever present shadow of Clarus and a servant with a tray of tea and finger foods. “You may step outside, Ulric. We will be sure to keep an eye on Oriens.” 

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Nyx said, bowing again to Regis and hesitating for just a moment before he gave a nod to Oriens also, “Your Highness.” 

Regis took a seat across from the couch, watching Oriens watch Ulric leave. Once the door closed behind the Glaive and the servant, Regis asked, “Did you know Ulric well?” 

Shaking his head, Oriens turned his attention to the tea, taking one of the quarters of sandwiches. “No. I mean, I knew of him. I trained with him a few times since he was the best warper in the Glaive, but it’s more that he made a name for himself.” 

“A good name?” 

“Yes? Mostly at least? I mean, he was known to be insubordinate at times, but he’d disobey orders to save lives. He brought his people home and it got him his nickname of ‘Hero’. I don’t know all of the story-,” he said with a frown, buying himself to find the right words a moment by taking a large bite of the sandwich. “The others found out things during the Long Night from Monica and a Glaive named Liberatus. I got a sense of a little of it from the Lucii. We found his daggers too, stuck inside a powerful psychomancer, when we came to retake Insomnia, that explained some things. So I only know some of it, I just don’t know how much I should tell you.” 

“Are you worried about the timeline? I rather think anything there is already lost,” Regis said. 

“Six, no- I’m going to do everything I can to _prevent_ that timeline,” Oriens said, vehemently. “No. It’s just- I don’t know how much has already started. And it feels wrong to condemn a man for what he did in another time- a time that hasn’t happened here and won't happen.” 

“Do we need to be concerned about Nyx, Oriens? If there is even a thread of doubt, I can’t have him guarding you like this,” Regis said, leaning forward. 

“No!” Oriens was quick to correct. “No, Nyx you can always trust. He’d give everything for you and for Lucis- he _did_ give everything. He put on the Ring, Regis. He put on the ring and took the power to raise the Wall and use it to save people. He did it knowing it would kill him. So Nyx? You can trust Nyx. You can trust him with me or yourself or Noctis.” 

“Yes, so it would seem,” Regis said, a little pale as he leaned back again into his seat. His hand trembled slightly where it rested against his mouth. He didn’t want to think about how grim that death must have been. The Lucii were not known for their generosity. “Then there is another- or others- that you are concerned about?” 

“Ya- yes. I’ve been…,” he paused, frowned, and tried to find the words. “It’s hard right now. As my magic comes back the Lucii get louder and-” 

_Traitor- Brother- Betrayer- Assassin- Coward-_ every time the family line had been betrayed or had betrayed someone played through his mind. He swallowed heavily as he again lived through Ardyn being stabbed by Sommus. Their line had _started_ with betrayal. The act soaked through every ounce of their blood. 

“It’s just I’ve been having to sort through things, make sure I’m clear about what’s right for this time and what’s the Lucii’s memoirs. And on top of that, the you from my time isn’t there. I reached out to see. I think when I lost connection to that time’s Crystal that link was severed. So, I’m going off what I know having lived through or having been told by people I trust and… fuck Regis,” Oriens said, scrubbing at his face. “Remember how I talked about Insomnia falling? It’s because they had inside help to take out the generators for the Wall.” 

“Help from who?” Clarus asked, speaking up for the first time, eyes sharp. 

The way Oriens scowled made Regis fear how bad this news would be. Nothing could have prepared him for the answer. 

“From Titus Drautos.” 

Regis sounded small as he repeated, “Titus?” 

Oriens nodded, the motion sharp and stilted. “Titus is General Glauca.” 

“Titan’s dick!” Clarus cursed, surging up from his chair to pace. The armchair rocked back with a thud, nearly tipping over. “That yellow livered mother fucking traitor!”  


“Clarus-” 

“No- _do not_ tell me to calm down, Regis! Do you know how many soldiers that man has killed as Glauca? How many of _his own soldiers?_ That fucking Infernian spawned bastard-” 

“Clarus, keep your voice down,” Regis said with a calm he didn’t feel. “We must keep this quiet till we know how to act.” 

Clarus clenched his jaw hard enough to see the muscle in it, but he nodded. Regis kept his gaze on his Shield for a moment more, gently trying to sooth him through their bond, before he looked to Oriens. “You’re sure about this?” 

“That’s why I’ve been thinking it over. I don’t know if he was always Glauca and a traitor or even if Glauca was always him. What I do know for sure is that Glauca has been around since Tenebrae fell and I know that when Insomnia fell, that Titus put on Glauca’s armor. But I can’t _prove_ any of it- especially not now that the armor is going to be gone.” 

“Why would the armor be gone?” Clarus asked, managing to keep his volume down even if the anger that laced through the words was still clear. 

“It was daemon fueled- or infected. That’s where the magic of it came from at least. It’s the same as with the MTs.” 

“We still need to have that conversation about the MTs,” Clarus said. 

“Priorities, Clarus,” Regis murmured. 

“ _Point is_ ,” Oriens continued, “I don’t know how to check or prove it without that. So even if there is something odd where he’s not the first Glauca and isn’t a traitor yet…” 

“We need to be on alert against him no matter what, especially with the destruction of the daemons destabilizing the empire,” Regis pointed out. 

“No meeting with him alone, Regis. No letting Noctis or Gladio or Ignis alone with him or- the Glaives, are they in on it?” Clarus snapped. His righteous anger was so much like Gladio’s in the moment that Oriens’ heart ached a little. 

“No, not all of them at least. Not even most of them it seemed. Some were, but I don’t have a list. I can tell you who to trust for certain, but there are going to be good people whose names aren’t on that list. My information is spotty. And even those who I know did turn…” 

“I want names,” Clarus insisted. 

Oriens nodded. “I’ll make a list of everyone I know to be good.” 

“I want the other names!” 

“I will not condemn someone for something that they haven’t done yet!” 

“They betrayed their king!” Clarus shouted, slamming his hands on the back of the armchair he stood behind. 

“They were following their Captain!” Oriens countered, rushing to his feet. Swallowing his words and anger back, Oriens looked down at Regis. “Do you trust me?” 

“Of course,” Regis answered instantly, not an ounce of hesitation to it. 

“Then give me a few months. Let me get a feel on how things are now. If I believe that it’s already started, that any of the Glaives have been turned, I’ll tell you everything that I know. If I can’t find anything out, I’ll still tell you to get eyes on it.” 

“Every month you check in. Four months as a deadline,” Regis said after a moment. 

“That’s fine. I can do that.” 

“Regis-,” Clarus started, frowning as Regis raised a hand to cut him off. 

“Clarus- you can set up monitoring of the Kingsglaive coms, movements, and missions. Inform Cor of this. He’s involved with the Glaives movements and will be able to keep an eye on matters. Other than Titus, we will assume the Glaives are not outright guilty. We will, however, only keep those who are on the list of safe Glaives that Oriens provides posted on the personal guard duties.” 

Clarus scowled at his king before taking a deep breath and letting his head drop. Regis knew he had Clarus on his side with that one simple motion. “Fine, Regis. For now, fine.” 

“Good. This is a disturbing matter, I recognize that fully, but we need to act carefully to weed out all of the rot in the Kingsglaive. Acting rashly will not serve us well. And Oriens? You are also to proceed carefully. Do not push yourself or put yourself at risk,” Regis ordered, waiting for an acquiescing nod from Oriens. “Now then, as there nothing to immediately act on there and since we are on matters of state already, the Council wants to give you a boon, Oriens.” 

“A boon? Really? That’s what they want to call it?” Oriens asked, his nose scrunched in disgust at the idea as he sat down again. 

Regis chuckled and finally leaned forward to pour himself a cup of tea. He could rather use it at this point to steady his nerves. “Really. It _is_ the right word, if archaic.” 

“I don’t- look, I don’t want a _boon_ or whatever. I just… I just want to make this time _better._ That’s all.” 

“And that’s more than admirable, Oriens, but it doesn’t hurt to have things spelled out officially in the record books- or to use this as a way to guarantee the Council’s cooperation. You must understand this from your time sitting on the Council. I am sure that I made you take part.” 

“You did, and I hated every single meeting. They are the worst, Regis. You know, the one good thing in of all this-” 

“Other than being alive,” Regis interjected. 

“Yes, _Regis_ ,” Oriens said, rolling his eyes, “ _Other than being alive_ , the best part of all of this is that I don’t have to deal with the Council anymore. I’m not going to be King, after all.” 

“Ah, I see where I rate. The best part of this is not purging the world of daemons or defeating the Accursed or me being alive- no, of course not,” Regis teased, talking over Oriens’ whine of ‘Regis’. “The best part of this all is that you don’t have to deal with the Council. That is your grand take away from traveling through time. The King of Kings- do not think I missed what Shiva called you- _doesn’t have to be King._ ” 

“Regis.” 

“Yes, o’ brother of mine?” 

“Let’s just talk about the damn boon, Regis,” Oriens grumbled to Regis’ laughter. 

* * *

Two days later, Oriens stood before the Council in the meeting hall. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked over the Council members seated around the large table with a steady gaze. Regis noted, proudly, that he looked like a king commanding the room. 

“Oriens Lucis Caelum,” Regis began, his voice calm, commanding, and kind. “Not only did you personally lend me great aid in saving my son, not only did you do Insomnia great aid in stopping a violent attack, but you did all of Eos great aid in helping purge our world of the Starscourge. This is not a debt that I, or the Council, can let go unpaid. What would you ask in return?” 

Oriens ducked his head, just slightly, before he caught himself and straightened again. “I did not act for reward.” 

“A fact clear to me, my dear brother,” Regis replied. There was some murmuring from the Council at his wording. He knew that some were still wary of his easy acceptance of his new relative, but he had no intention of offering Oriens anything but warmth and acceptance. If only the Council knew the half of it. “Still, both myself and the Council insist.” 

“If they insist, I would ask three things,” Oriens replied, his tone just shy of coy. He waited for Regis’ motion to continue before he did so. “First, I would simply ask to be allowed a home here in Insomnia and near my family.” 

“A request that I couldn’t bear to deny. You are family and your home is here with us. That request is mine to grant, not the Council’s, and I do so easily,” Regis said. He was pleased that Oriens had listened to advice to be sure to provide an opportunity for him to formally be accepted as family. “The second?” 

“To be allowed to help with the fight against Niflheim and the threats to Lucis that still exist. The Scourge may be gone, but we are still at war,” Oriens said. His chin tilted up slightly, defiantly. 

“You save this world, and yet you ask to fight further? An odd request when you could instead ask for your own peace,” a councilwoman that Orien’s couldn’t place the name of said. A Lucii whispered facts in the back of his head about her that he ignored. He didn’t need Mors effecting him right then. 

“No, I couldn’t have asked for my own peace. My peace will not be had till Lucis has peace. I am, after all, a Lucis Caelum and my very life is tied to this nation. I ask not out of desire to fight, but out of the need bringing that peace. And in that for the freedom to come and go through the Wall as I need to achieve it,” Oriens said. He kept his shoulders down and his pose carefully relaxed. 

“The details, of course, will need to be worked out with our commanders, but I do not think that any would deny you the right to fight for your home and blood- nor would it be wise for us to ignore the power that you bring us,” Regis said, leaning back into his seat. “Council- all those for say ‘aye’.” 

‘Aye’s sounded through the room with not a ‘nay’ against it. No one was foolish enough to deny the man who had the power of the gods the chance to fight. That was too great an asset to pass up, even for those who may still be wary of Oriens. 

“Again then, an easy request,” Regis said with a wave of his hand. “That is more an offer of yours than a boon from us. What of your third request?” 

Here Oriens hesitated for the first time. Regis leaned forward just slightly, not sure where this was about to go. Oriens had made it clear from their last talk that he had intended to stay and fight, and Regis had suggested that he be sure to secure his connection to the family and his freedom. What this third request was to be, though, Regis hadn't a clue. He had respected Oriens desire for time to think and had not pried further. 

Some of the easy grace left Oriens’ shoulders as he squared them and tilted his head in that slightly defiant manner again. “Better protection of and funding for the refugees- both in Insomnia and beyond the Wall.” 

The effect of the words were immediately felt in the room. Council members were instantly talking to their neighbors and across the table. Regis himself straightened in his seat and looked at Oriens with a considering gaze. 

“Lucis is more than simply those born in Insomnia,” Oriens said, his voice cutting clearly over the chatter. His words were firm and full of a steady certainty. “It is more than Lestallum. It is every small town- every Hammerhead and Taelpar found along our roads. It is every Hunter outpost. It is Cavaugh and Galahd. And it is even those who flee to us from Altissa and Niflheim. I have traveled beyond these Walls and even beyond the borders of Lucis. The people who make up our nation by birth and by choice are owed our respect and protection.” 

“They have it- they have been accepted inside the Wall,” a councilman said. Councilman Obustus, a voice in the back of Oriens’ mind that sounded a great deal like Ignis supplied. It also informed Oriens that Obustus had always been staunchly stubborn about refugee reform. 

“And what then? They come to us with nothing and we leave them with nothing?” 

“What do you wish to propose?” Regis cut in, hoping to refocus this before it became a fight. 

“We own those who lost everything what support we can. We are a great nation still and we should act like it. Anti-discrimination laws to start are needed. There are broad ones, yes, but we need specific protections for refugees. Those from Niflheim and Galahd especially need these as they are easily recognized,” Oriens said, carefully not glancing at the Glaives standing guard inside of the room. “That recognition makes them easy targets for the crueler parts of the city. 

“Support is also needed monetarily for the Cavaugh, Galahd, and Niflheim districts. If they came with nothing, the best they could afford was nothing and that isn’t right. Their homes were lost so that Insomnia could be saved when the Wall was pulled back. I will not argue about the act, Mors did as he saw best as did our ancestors, but the act had consequences and those must be owned up to. We must see to it that there is the infrastructure and support for the population growth in those areas. We have a chance here to turn the most run down parts of the city into thriving areas, but the shape of those areas and how the funds are spent should be informed by those communities. We must give them the means to rebuild at least a facet of their homes rather than simply requiring them to fit into the culture that is already here. Lucis’ strength is in its people and Insomnia should reflect those people in all of its diversity.” 

As soon as he had finished speaking, the council members were talking over each other in that way that Oriens had always hated to listen to. Regis let them go on for a few minutes to get it out of their system before he spoke, his voice easily took command of the room. “That is not a request that can be solved in mere moments. There will be details that must be discussed and planned out. I am sure though in this moment, as we vote on the plan to fulfill the request in some manner, that the Council will keep in mind that Oriens did bring about a new dawn for all of Eos and perhaps, in the light of that dawn, we can find a path to act with generous kindness. With details to come, those in favor of refugee reform, say ‘aye’.” 

This time, several ‘aye’s were much more begrudging, but, in the end, they all sounded. Oriens struggled not to smile at how seamlessly Regis worked the room. It was easier to see now, after everything that had happened, what a fine king the other was. 

“The motion is met. But again, such a selfless ask,” Regis said, amusement lacing through his words. “Nothing at all for yourself? No riches or grande estate or towering statue you wish to ask for?” 

“Six, please, no statues,” Oriens replied in horror before he could help himself. “Seriously just, no statues. Put that money towards my third request instead.” 

Regis had to hold back a laugh at the reaction. It seemed that even this older version of his son was perhaps still a little shy. Shy or not, Oriens had acted with grace and kindness today and Regis could not be prouder. With a smile on his lips, he said, “That shall be taken into consideration, Brother.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Wow, let me tell you, I'm glad I had a buffer of chapters done when I started posting, because I've been without power or heat the last few days now! Don't worry, somewhere safe and warm now~)
> 
> So, I actually chose Noctis’ new name pretty early on in writing this. I know in fanon there are other names often used, but I wanted something here that referenced what he brought about- and everything he gave up. (Also if I went with another N name I would eternally be typing the wrong one.) We also start getting to the Titus question, if any of you were wondering about him in all this. Figuring that out becomes the crux of this fix it so it will be explored more in time! I storta see this as the end of the first act, if this was a play. Everything set up, time to dig into it!
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **Next Chapter:**  
>  “You okay there?” Nyx asked. Oriens seemed to also have a moment of finding it hard to stand up and when Nyx caught his gaze there was a cloudiness there. The royal blinked back to the present with a determined little shake of his head. 
> 
> “Ya. Wow- okay, that was weird being warped by someone else. You’re all,” Oriens’ nose wrinkled as he waved a hand vaguely at Nyx. 
> 
> “I’m all what?” Nyx asked, affronted by an implication he didn’t even understand.


	6. An Easy Arrangement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains vague references to human experimentation via the MT program.

Ever since the attack on the Prince, Nyx had become determined to be proficient in warping at least one other person with him. It was proving harder than he thought. The exhaustion was one thing, he could push through that for a bit until stasis hit, but the real problem was that every time Nyx tried to teleport with another person it felt like the grasp on his kukri or the person in his arms wanted to sip. 

The first few times, Nyx had been able to talk Liberatus into being his practice person by promising to buy Libs skewers for dinner as payment. After Libs had thrown up during practice, each and every time, he (not so gracefully) bowed out. Word of how poorly Liberatus had handled it spread through the Glaives, and after that Nyx couldn’t talk anyone else in letting him use them for practice. They were cowards, the lot of them, Nyx concluded. It was a surprise then, when not only did he find a new practice partner, but it came in the form of the new Lucis Caelum. 

“I can help with that,” Oriens had offered, casually, when he overheard Nyx trying to wheedle another one of the rookies into helping him out. 

“What?” Nyx asked, turning to where Oriens was seated on the ground, carefully running through stretches. “I mean, are you sure you want to? You’re here to train.” 

“Hero- if by ‘train’ you mean stretch slowly and maybe swing a sword around a few times, sure, ya, I’m here to train. But Titan’s dick I’m getting bored of that,” Oriens said. 

Over the last week, Oriens had been hopping between the Crownsguard’s halls or the Kingsglaive training ground depending on what type of guard was on ‘him’ duty that day. So far his efforts had been limited to running through his range of mobility with the new scar tissue and a few small flexes of power to test his reserves. 

An odd part of being exceptionally more powerful than he used to be, was that sometimes all that power seemed to make things _worse_ \- or at least make his fighting style worse. Oriens figured it had to be something about habit and being trained for hours and hours to use his powers one way until it became second nature, and then when those powers changed it threw everything off. Gladio had bit into him about that a lot when he’d started to be able to warp and still wasn’t using it effectively with the rest of his skills. It was only with Gladio forcing him through it that Oriens had come through the other side a better fighter. 

He pushed the thought of Gladio swiftly and stubbornly away. 

With the Empire still in place, and Ardyn possibly still alive even if de-scourged, Oriens was desperate to be fit to fight. He didn’t want to risk being caught unaware, again. Cor had said a firm ‘no’ though, to Noctis jumping right back into fighting with the still healing injuries. Even at thirty (only six years younger than Cor in this time and wasn’t that a thought) and with more power than the gods, Oriens still found himself a bit afraid of the other man. Cor just had that effect. The compromise was for Oriens to start looking into the Glaives while he started training again. Stretching, running through blade work in slow, thoughtful ways, and, if he thought he wasn’t being watched, summoning the fractals of the power that sung in his soul to his fingertips was all the training Oriens currently got. Nyx’s idea had Oriens intrigued, though, and it wasn’t like it would be a strain on him. 

“Besides,” Oriens continued, “You have a point- it would be good to reliably be able warp someone else. I’d like to get it down too. So, you warp around with me and when they let me really train, you get to be _my_ warping dummy.” 

Nyx frowned, shifting on his feet. He really wanted to say yes, it didn’t seem like he was going to convince anyone else to help him out, but- “Okay, but I’m on duty right now. Literally, _you_ are my duty. This isn’t training time for me.” 

Shrugging, Oriens said, “It doesn’t have to be now. But also, I mean, we’re surrounded by other Glaives. I think I’m pretty safe.” 

Except that he might not be. Nyx was safe and Liberatus was safe. He felt certain that the other two of that group- Crowe and Pelna- were also safe. A scatter of other names were on that list from what had been mentioned to him, but other Glaives could have already been turned by Titus. They could already be poisoned against crown and country and plotting their attacks. Oriens shook his head. It didn’t do him any good to go down that road. Part of actively training on the Glaives' grounds was to suss out what was going on with the Glaives and give _everyone_ a fair chance at changing their fate. He’d save as many as he could, even from themselves. 

“That makes some sense,” Nyx agreed, reluctantly. 

“Look, Nyx,” Tredd cut in, rolling his eyes from where he was sharpening his blade and listening to the whole back and forth, “You stop trying to drag the rest of us wrapping with you and I’ll keep guard for you for a few hours, alright?” 

Oriens rolled smoothly to his feet and clapped Nyx heartily on his back. “Hear that Hero? All figured out. Let’s go. You’re supposed to be a good warper already, right?” 

“One of the best, Your Highness,” Nyx said, the title more mocking than anything right then. He slipped an arm around Oriens’ waist, surprised at how slim the other was under the dark tee shirt. Pulling the blade at the small of his back from its sheath, he suggested, “Hold onto your stomach.” 

Focus fully on his kukri, Nyx flung the blade through the air. He threaded his magic after it, reaching out to wrap a tendril of power around it that he then snapped himself to, dragging both of them forward about ten feet. A lurch of movement, a feeling of drag heavier than normal, and a sensation of coming momentarily undone came with the pull. Then, suddenly, it felt like slamming into a wall as Nyx and Oriens popped back into reality, blue versions of them trailing to the spot they now stood. Nyx staggered to find his footing as they reappeared. His feet tangled with Oriens’ and he fumbled an arm around the other, hand clinging tightly onto the shirt to keep them balanced and upright. 

“You okay there?” Nyx asked. Oriens seemed to also have a moment of finding it hard to stand up, and when Nyx caught his gaze there was a cloudiness there. The royal blinked back to the present with a determined shake of his head. 

“Ya. Wow- okay, that was _weird_ being warped by someone else. You’re all,” Oriens’ nose wrinkled as he waved a hand vaguely at Nyx. 

“I’m all what?” Nyx asked, affronted by an implication he didn’t even understand. 

“Your magic. It smells- tastes? Whatever- it feels weird.” 

“Are you seriously telling me that I _taste weird?_ ” 

“...Boys,” Crowe greeted. Nyx whipped around to glare at her as she came into the training grounds, looking far too smug for his liking. 

“Crowe, just… don’t.” 

“Nyx- I so am,” she said, grinning. 

“Crowe,” Nyx tried again, the name basically a sigh of exasperation. “This is Oriens _Lucis Caelum._ Your Highness, this is Crowe Altius. Careful of her, she’s evil.” 

“Slandering me in front of royalty? How dare you, Nyx,” Crowe replied, bringing a hand to her chest. Her words dripped with mock indignation. 

“Don’t worry, I don’t trust him anyways,” Oriens joked and took a step back from where he was still far too close to Nyx. He tucked his hands into the pocket of his sweatpants to avoid fidgeting. 

“Yet you let him warp you around like that? Doesn’t seem too wise of you,” Crowe said, ignoring Nyx’s hissing at her to shut up. 

Oriens shrugged, “I can always warp myself out of any trouble he gets me into.” 

“Your Highness,” Crowe said, grinning, “If you think that, you’re _really_ underestimating the trouble that Nyx can get you into.” 

“You know- you’re probably right,” Oriens said honestly, nearly smiling. “But a few warps I can manage. He’ll get tired soon.” 

“First I taste bad, now I have no stamina?” Nyx grumbled. 

“Nyx- think about what you just said. Just- run it by yourself again,” Crowe said, sniggering. She dogged a shove from him and backed up with a laugh and a little salute. “Good luck warping, boys.” 

After an awkward moment of watching her walk away, Oriens said, “So, back to it? I promise not to say you taste weird again.” 

“You still going to think it?” 

“Totally. Come on Hero, warp me,” Oriens said, holding an arm up for the other to grab hold of him again. They managed two more warps, talking through the sensations after each one, before Nyx was teetering on the edge of stasis. Oriens used the excuse of having to get back to the Citadel to stop the other from pushing further than was wise. 

Even if it had been an excuse, Oriens ended up grateful for the chance to shower before his meeting with Regis and the others. Cor was supposed to be getting back today with news. Oriens’ nerves buzzed under his skin. The scalding hot water helped settle him some, and he slipped on some loose pants and his most comfortable shirt to head to the meeting in. 

Nyx and another guard flanked Oriens as they headed down a few floors and then over the sky bridge to get to Regis’ office. Oriens nodded to Clarus as they passed by the other’s open door and continued on past Regis’ assistant to knock on the double doors to the main office. The ‘come in’ came a beat later, and Oriens slipped inside alone. 

“Ah, Oriens, you’re earlier than I expected,” Regis said, glancing up from his work. 

“Sorry- I can go?” Oriens offered, already taking a half step back towards the doors. 

“No, of course not. Cor just isn’t here yet. I’m simply signing a few executive orders, and you are perfectly welcome to settle in and wait for our dear Marshal to arrive,” Regis said, waving his hand, pen and all, casually towards the seating area. “I know for a fact that it will not be the first time you’ve spent an evening in here waiting.” 

“The couch and I are old friends,” Oriens agreed with a chuckle as he walked over to sink into the familiar cushions. Resting his chin on the palm of his hand, he turned to watch the crackling fire that was almost always roaring in Regis’ office. In the past it had seemed like a little quirk that no matter the season there was a fire going. He’d been too young or otherwise distracted to put two and two together then, but now with more chunks carved out of his flesh than before, Oriens understood that the fire was there to help soothe away the ache of old wounds and bone deep pain. 

Oriens’ gaze slid over to Regis, taking in the details of him. Both of their faces were lined with more wrinkles than they should have at their respective ages- clusters of lines around their eyes and that pinch between their brow. Grey was starting to line its way through Regis’ hair, but it was hardly as prominent as how Oriens remembered it. And, while Oriens knew that under the desk a knee brace wrapped Regis’ knee, much like the less ornait one that Oriens wore under his own pants, the dreaded cane was not yet in use. 

When Regis closed one folder, moved it aside, and reached for another, Oriens interrupted. “I want to help with the Wall.” 

“Pardon?” Regis asked, blinking out of his thoughts to focus on Oriens. 

“Once everything is… settled with me,” he said, lifting his head off his hand so that he could tap lightly against his sternum, “I want to help out with the burden of the Wall.” 

Regis frowned, thoughtfully, and leaned back into his seat. “I’m not sure that is possible.” 

“Why not? The Crystal accepts me. I can even wear the ring if I need to, but even without it, my connection to the Crystal is still strong enough I should be able to feed into it.” 

“That may be,” Regis agreed, after a moment of running the possibilities through his head. “But the Wall isn’t your burden.” 

“Why not? I’m back here for a reason, aren’t I? Part of making things better is making sure that you’re around for a long time.” 

“Not at the expenses of yourself, Oriens.” 

“What expense?” he snapped back, scowling. “I have all this power, let me use it for something! Let me do something _good_ with it- something other than just… killing. Who knows, after the Empire is taken care of, we may not even need the Wall-” 

“It is far too early for us to be thinking that the Empires’ defeat is a certainty-” 

“But even if it’s not I can still help out-” 

“ _-and_ it is still not your duty. You have been asked to give far too much already.” 

“I’m not being _asked_ , I’m offering. Doesn’t that make a difference?” 

“Oriens,” Regis started, with a sigh, before being cut off by a knock at the door. “We’ll talk about this more later.” 

Oriens snorted skeptically in reply. 

“I promise,” Regis assured him. He straightened in his chair and held back another sigh. “Come in.” 

The door opened to reveal Cor, who had very clearly come straight to the Citadel from his mission. The orange dust of Lied still covered Cor’s pants, a smear of it was on his cheek, and there was a slight tightness around his eyes that others might miss, but Regis knew the look of all too well. Regis swept his magic out over Cor almost unconsciously, assuring himself that his Sword was back in one piece. 

Cor glanced from Regis, to Oriens, and then back to his King with a raised brow. “Bad time?” 

“No- we were simply discussing something. Come in, I’ll let Clarus know to head this way.” 

“Don’t bother, I caught him on the way here so he should be by shortly,” Cor said, closing the door behind him and heading over to sink into his usual armchair with a sprawl of his long limbs. 

Regis got up from his desk, rounded the corner to head over to the small dry bar, and poured a few fingers of whiskey in a glass that he set down by Cor’s side. He motioned the bottle to Oriens, who gave a little shrug, and so Regis was pouring a smaller splash for himself and Oriens when Clarus came in. The other didn’t bother to wait for permission to enter after his distinct warning knock. 

“So it’s a whiskey sort of talk then?” Clarus asked, going to stand next to Regis and accepting a glass for himself. 

“It’s good news, just with a lot of implications. And we had to pull one of our spies to get it- spies we don’t have a lot of,” Cor said, taking a sip of his drink while everyone else settled down. “Extraction got… a little messy.” 

“Was the information worth it?” Regis asked, sitting down on the couch to the left of Oriens. 

“Seems so, it gives us more certainty at least. Chancellor Izunia hasn’t been seen since the Burst. Rumor is that he went up in a puff of ash. 

“He’s gone?” Oriens asked, fingers tight around the tumbler as he leaned forward. If Ardyn was truly gone, that was a major item removed from the list of things he was trying to keep track of. Even a non-daemon infected Ardyn was too great a risk to ignore. 

“Everything seems to support that. There’s been no search ordered for him. No one is bringing him up in conversations as far as rank is concerned anymore. They’ve started the process of naming another chancellor. I can’t see the Emperor doing that if the man wasn’t confirmed dead. 

“All of the MTs went up in dust too- just piles of scrap armor left. I checked some of it myself. Apparently, that has the Empire in a real panic over troop size.” 

Oriens gave a little nod, “Makes sense that they’d fade just like when the Scourge was killed. If they were deployed, they had to be at least level… 4 I think it was? Question is what happened to the clones in… development.” 

“Clones? We knew they were experimenting on humans, but,” Cor cut himself off with a large swallow of his whiskey. 

“Ya, clones. My Heart? Prompto? He’s one of those clones, but he was brought to Insomnia as a baby somehow. I never got the whole story- I don’t know if he ever did either- but he found out about his origins on the trip. He never had enough of the… treatments to have any of the miasma infection left, but I don’t know where the cut off age is. Sorry, I didn’t- I wasn’t around for much longer after we found all of this out. I’m missing a lot of info.” 

“It’s understandable,” Clarus rumbled, reassuringly. “Can you write down what you do know? We can compare it to our own information and it may reveal something. And, if there could be an army being grown, daemons or no, we need to know that to be prepared. It could give us a good opening to cripple them, if we take away the option of those future soldiers.” 

“Sure, of course, I’ll start that tonight,” Oriens said, glad that Clarus was asking for his input this time. “When this all kicks off, I want to be out there to help put an end to the Empire.” 

“Oriens,” Regis started, carefully, “I know that letting you fight was part of your agreement with the Council, but right now, you are still in recovery. Continuing to run through your training is important, so that when you do return to fighting you are able to protect yourself. I have no intention of losing you again.” 

“I just- I feel so worthless right now.” 

“Needing to heal doesn’t make you worthless, Oriens,” Regis assured him, before relenting with a sigh, “But I am also very familiar with the need to do more- it does seem to run in the family. Perhaps, for now, focus on your work with figuring out the Glaives? We can increase the time that you spend training with them by arranging it so that your afternoon guard is always a Glaive.” 

Oriens huffed, but relented. “That works, I suppose.” 

“Two birds with one stone, Brother. You can’t really beat it,” Regis pointed out, the corner of his mouth ticking up in a teasing smile. 

“You’re insufferable.” 

“And yet, you all love me,” Regis said with a smirk and a tip of his glass. 

Oriens rolled his eyes and knocked back the rest of his drink. “I better get started on that report. I’ll also look to see if Prompto stuffed anything useful in my Armiger.” 

“And I have my own report to finish up,” Clarus said. He stood and clasped Cor on the shoulder. “Make sure you get some rest, but some see me when you can tomorrow.” 

“Will do, Clarus,” Cor agreed, titling his glass at the other as Clarus went to the door, holding it open for Oriens to leave through. 

Once he was alone in the office with Regis, Cor asked, “What’s bothering you?” 

“It’s nothing,” Regis tried as a dismissal. Cor raised a dubious brow over the large lip of the whiskey glass as he took a long, pointed sip. Regis let out a huff of air and tried again. “Fine, it’s Oriens. I am worried about him pushing himself too far. I am worried that…” 

Regis trailed off with a hapless little wave of his hand, trying to encompass it all. Giving up, he slumped into the couch. He rubbed at his face and let his palm dig into his temple to try and relieve the pressure there. He heard Cor shift- the creak of old leather and the sound of the heavy tumbler being set down- before he felt the couch dip on the other side of him. “I’m fine, Cor.” 

Cor merely hummed in response and reached out to pull Regis’ hand away from his face. Regis gave a token protest of a tug before relenting and letting Cor’s fingers wrap around his wrist and move his arm as wanted. A sigh of relief slipped through Regis’ lips when Cor brought his other hand up to rub at Regis’ temple, knuckles pressing in just the right way against the sore skin to relieve some of the headache. Shamelessly, Regis leaned into the touch. 

“You’re worried what?” Cor prompted. 

“I am worried that he hasn’t fully accepted that there’s no cause left demanding him to die for it.” 

“Ah. He’ll get there. It takes time to get used to the idea that your job is to live, not to die.” 

Regis gave a little shrug, trying not to disturb the hand doing wonders on his headache, and settled further into the couch. If asked, he would have denied the small whine that he made when Cor pulled his hand away to take the glass dangling from Regis’ fingers and set it on the coffee table. Regis _certainly_ ignored the soft chuckle from the other man. 

Settling his fingers back to work on Regis’ temple, Cor continued. “He’ll get there, trust me. He’ll have hard days though, for a while.” 

“Do you still have them? Those hard days,” Regis asked, softly. He felt half way asleep already. 

“Maybe.” 

“Next time you have one of them, come to me?” 

“Maybe,” Cor said again, chuckling. “You worry too much already. Rest, Regie. I’ll wake you in an hour.” 

“Half an hour, I have work to do,” Regis groused. 

“Hour and a quarter, now sleep,” Cor ordered, getting an amused, sleepy noise from Regis as the man let himself drift off into a nap, soothed by the fingers on his head and the comforting sense of Cor nearby and safe. 

* * *

Oriens closed the laptop he’d been working on with a little more force than intended. It was a struggle to write the report on the MTs. He’d started it last night and deleted almost half of what he’d written when he looked at it again in the morning. He’d heard Prompto’s understandably stumbling explanations of what had happened so long ago now, and whatever he’d learned from Ardyn could be a complete lie. Looking through the Armiger was a strain- both on his magic and his emotions. It was worse knowing that this was important for taking out the Empire. Even human, a clone army was still a threat. Sighing, Oriens set the laptop aside and sat up straighter on the couch, carefully he worked to stretch his sore back without twinging the wound in his chest. 

Part way through the stretches, there was a hesitant knock and then the door to the sitting room cracked open. One bright blue eye, half hidden under a mop of black hair, peered at Oriens through the crack. 

“Hello,” Oriens greeted, his lips ticking up in an amused smile. Astrals, he’d forgotten how shy he still was at that age. Well, how shy he was and not yet skilled in completely covering it up by being an absolute brat. That came a bit later. 

“Are you really my uncle?” Noctis blurted out. Oriens heard, very faintly, an offended Ignis say Noctis’ name. 

“Ya, Iggy, I know- I’m going to ask,” Noctis hissed back over his shoulder. “Dad says that we can only visit if you say it’s alright... because you’re still healing and get tired lots and that’s why I haven’t met you yet. But I want to meet you because if you’re my uncle, so I should get to know you... right?” 

“I think that’s how it works,” Oriens agreed. He still didn’t really know how close he wanted to be to mini-him- or to young Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto. It would be hard to watch them grow up and not get to be there with them. It would be harder still to watch them grow up into different people. Oriens _knew_ that they would be different people- what with everything he had changed already and wanted to still change. He hoped everything he did would make life better, but he didn’t know what that would mean for the people the quartet would grow up into. Would Ignis learn to live for himself a little instead of just serving? Would Gladio have better control on his anger? Would Prompto be more confident? Would little him be happier? Oriens hoped, on one hand, that all of it would come true. Part of staying around like this was to be able to give a chance for all of those changes to happen, but _Six,_ it would hurt to stand by and see shadows of his brothers in people that were so different from them. 

Oriens had to close his eyes for a moment. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Ya, sure,” Oriens lied, voice a bit rough from the threat of tears that he choked back. He cleared his throat before trying again. “Ya- why don’t you two come in?” 

At the invitation, Noctis slipped into the room eagerly. Ignis followed at a more sedate pace, already the perfect little gentleman. It was so odd to look at a twelve-ish year old Ignis, knowing the brilliant, confident man he would become. Oriens was at least certain, no matter what changed, that Ignis would still be brilliant- he didn’t have it in him to be anything less. 

Noctis went straight to flop into the armchair on the other side of the coffee table, making Ignis sigh before he turned to Oriens and gave a lesson perfect bow. “Ignis Scientia, Your Highness. And, of course, this is Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum.” 

“Oriens Lucis Caelum,” he returned with a nod. “But really, I think that just first names are alright between us, don’t you? Noctis and I are related and you’re Noctis’ friend and Chamberlain.” 

“Ya- that sounds great!” Noctis said quickly, cutting off Ignis before the other could protest. “So you _really_ are my uncle? Why didn’t I know about you? Did Dad just not tell me? Why would he do that?” 

“I’m afraid Regis didn’t know about me either. Things were… complicated and I wasn’t around,” Oriens explained. He felt bad for lying to his younger self. Knowing him, he wouldn’t take the fact well later. “There’s a lot I can’t tell you, but if I can, I’ll tell you the full story when you’re older.” 

Noctis listened, feet swinging as he did so. Ignis settled more properly in the other armchair, folding his hands in his lap and sitting perfectly still. The both of them looked so small sitting across the way like that. Noctis’ nose scrunched up as he asked, “So dad didn’t know about you at all?” 

“He didn’t, no. Just your grandfather Mors did.” 

Noctis seemed to consider that for a long moment before ducking his head with a little frown. “Did you know about us?” 

“I knew about Regis- at least a little- but I didn’t know about you until recently,” he lied, going back over the story in his head. Sometimes the truth really was the easiest. “I was… I wasn’t in a place where I could get news or information for a really long time- for ten years- and before that I was fighting. I didn’t really get to know about you till recently.” 

“So you _couldn’t_ come till now? Or did you just…” Noctis cut himself off, biting at his lip. It was an old habit that Oriens remembered having to train himself out of. Hesitantly, Noctis continued, “Or… did you just not want to come?” 

“Oh,” Oriens let out softly, shaking his head. Gods it hurt to see this from the other side. It hurt to remember it in himself- what it was like after the attack and being stuck at the Citadel and how busy his father was. It took him a long time to understand that his father didn’t have much of a choice in any of it, and how precious those weekly dinners that Regis carved out the time for were. In fact, he still might be coming to terms with some of that even now. 

“I promise you that I came as soon as I could- the instant I could. And I can’t promise that I would leave again- because I have to and I will- but I can promise that I’ll come back. I’m going to be staying here in Insomnia now as my home, so I’ll be around. And… and we can get to know each other, if you’d like?” 

“Really?” Noctis asked, a shadow of excitement on his face as he looked up. 

“Really. After all, I’m your Uncle, aren’t I?” It was a lie, but at the same time it was a reality that Oriens was starting to think that he could embrace. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could carve out a little place for himself here in this time. Maybe, if he was _very_ lucky, he could find some happiness again in the little pieces of living he had- like getting to see this Noctis and who he could become surrounded by friends and without the threat of war. 

“Ya! Do you like games? Iggy only lets me play if I’ve finished all my homework-” 

“Your homework is important, Your Highness,” Ignis muttered softly. 

“-But if I get done I can play some games. Maybe… you could come play with me? I mean, when you’re feeling better? Dad says I shouldn’t press because there’s lots I don’t know about, but just if you wanted too…?” 

Despite himself, Oriens chuckled at the shy eagerness from the other. “Alright, we’ll have a game night sometime with pizza and snacks and everything. But only if you’ve finished your homework like Ignis says to.” 

“Sweet! That’s going to be so much fun- you hear that Iggy? Game night!” 

“Yes, Noctis,” Ignis said with the attitude of a sigh in his voice. 

“You would be welcome to join us, Ignis,” Oriens offered. “If you would like to.” 

Ignis sat up a little straighter, wide eyed at being included like that. “I- thank you, Your Highness.” 

“Really, just Oriens is fine.” 

“It won’t work,” Noctis said in a conspiratorial tone. “He even calls me that still and he’s been my best friend for _years_ now.” 

“That’s okay,” Oriens replied in the same sort of over the top whisper, “He’ll come around. Trust me. I’ve got a knack for knowing these things.” 

Noctis’ face scrunched up at that. “What sort of things? Future things?” 

“Mmhum, crazy Crystal things.” 

“Wow,” Noctis gasped. “I’ve only seen the Crystal once! You’ve seen it? Is it really actually cool? It just looked like a big rock to me. The light was pretty though.” 

“It… has its moments. Respect it- it's very powerful and that power comes with a price. Right now, you don’t worry about any of that. _And_ when the time comes, I’ll help teach you to warp, alright?” Oriens offered. He really hoped his magic would come back fully so that he could fulfill that promise. He missed whipping through air and that satisfying pull at his core. He wanted to reach out and see how different this Noctis’ core felt than his own, but he held back. He was worried his control was still too thin. 

“Deal!” Noctis said instantly. Next to him, Ignis looked a little constipated at the idea of Noctis being able to to warp, which was fair. Warping had really upped Noctis’ ability to get into both trouble and places he shouldn’t be. Maybe Oriens would even show Noctis one or two of the best routes- when Ignis wasn’t around to overhear of course. 

There was a knock at the door before Regis entered, smiling at the scene. “So this is where all my family got off to, I was wondering.” 

“We asked if we could come in and he said yes!” Noctis was quick to assure his dad, sitting up in his seat. 

“I’m glad that you did, and I am sure Oriens is also,” Regis said. He reached out to ruffle Noctis’ hair as he passed, ignoring the whine of ‘dad’ that came as he did so. At the couch he hesitated a moment before reaching out to ruffle Oriens’ hair also, chuckling as his hand was batted away. 

“Are you done for the day?” Noctis asked his dad hopefully. 

“Indeed I am- I am free all the way through our dinner tonight.” 

“Can Uncle Oriens come to dinner too?” 

“Well, I am certainly alright with it, but that decision is Oriens’ and depends on if he’s feeling up for it,” Regis said, diplomatically. He was still being careful with how much he pushed Oriens into engaging with things. 

Noctis turned his attention to Oriens, pleading, “Will you come to dinner? Please, Uncle?” 

“I- sure, if you want me there, I’ll come,” Oriens said, a bit taken back at how effective the puppy dog eyes being turned on him were. It’s a good thing he hadn’t truly realized the power of them at that age, or he would have been a real terror. 

“Sweet! We can talk about what sort of games you want to play for game night and what you like on pizza and what else you like to do- do you like fishing? I don’t get to go lots, but Dad showed me how! Maybe you can come next time?” 

“Lucky for us, I love fishing. Sometime, I’ll show you my best lures.” 

“Really? Have you caught lots? What’s the biggest fish you’ve caught?” 

“Okay, slow down,” Oriens said, a smile finally cracking his face. “How about I tell you the story of the time that I caught the Devil of the Cygillan…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sweeps soft Corgis-ish moment under the rug* nothing to see here, nope. 
> 
> Finally the two Nocts meet! The flow of this chapter actually fought me the whole way. So, I hope in the end it worked out!
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Next Chapter:**  
>  Reaching out, Nyx caught Oriens by the elbow. “Hey- are you allowed to leave the Citadel?”
> 
> “What?” Orins asked, surprised by the sudden question. 
> 
> “Are you allowed to leave the Citadel? You’ve been cooped up either there or here this whole time, haven’t you? You’ve got to be going a little stir crazy. Why don’t we skip warp practice today and go out into the city? You always look like you could use a good meal in you anyways and I know some places,” Nyx explained.


	7. Red As Spice

Nyx could only manage a few warps a day with another person before he was on the edge of stasis, but he was slowly pushing the bounds of what he could do. Ten feet across the training ground floor became twenty became thirty become a warp a few feet vertically up one of the columns. 

Warping with someone else still felt slippery, and Nyx _hated_ that. He might not be one of the mages like Crowe, but he had always had an easy grasp on his borrowed magic. Pulling on it to warp had come naturally to Nyx- just grab the thread and _pull._ When warping with Oriens, it felt like trying to hold onto a grease slicked line instead. Every ounce of focus Nyx had went into maintaining his grip when the other was in his arms. It was the heavy need for concentration as much as the risk of stasis that had them taking frequent breaks between warps for Nyx to rest or down some sports drinks and a snack. 

Most days now, Oriens was coming by the training grounds in the afternoon. Nyx had a suspicion that things had been specifically arranged for a Glaive to always take the afternoon shift- not that he minded any- and Nyx always kept half an eye on Oriens as he trained. Even just taking things slow and running through drills, Nyx could tell that Oriens was a skilled fighter, and he couldn’t wait to see the other really swing that blade around. He had a feeling it might be awhile, though. 

Oriens still had days where he didn’t make it to the training grounds. While Nyx wasn’t sure of all the reasons, he had been on duty for at least one of those days, and it was as if Oriens had regressed all the way back to when he had first gotten out of the hospital. Nyx didn’t like to think of the look in Oriens’ eyes when he got like that. It wasn’t exactly a vacant gaze- more like Oriens was focused on something that the rest of them couldn’t see. It made Nyx uneasy. 

Even when Oriens did make it to training, there were times that his body betrayed him instead of his mind. One day he had twisted wrong on a landing and gone down hard on his left knee with a wounded noise. Pelna, who had been on duty that day, had tried to get Oriens to rest, but he had shook it off and gone back to training. He was limping the next day. So, it was clear that having a proper fight with Oriens would have to wait, even if Nyx knew in his bones and braids that the other would get there. 

At the moment, they were focused mostly on warping. They had been at it for about two weeks and had slowly been graduating higher and higher up the ledges and columns of the training ground. Now, at the start of a fresh day, Oriens was trying to weasel Nyx into warping them to a ledge, over a gap, and onto a column. 

“Nyx, we’ve got to try sometime. Why not today?” 

“Oh, _we’ve_ got to try? I’m the one who has to not drop you!” Nyx bit back, irritably. Oriens had the feeling that Nyx might be nervous. 

Nyx was. 

“Oh, just you alone in all this? Alright then, I’ll just be over there, _not_ being your warping partner-” 

“Your Highness, really?” Nyx asked, rubbing at his face. 

“Really, Hero. Come on- what’s the worst that can happen?” Oriens asked back. 

“I drop you! That’s what! And I really, really don’t think that the King would like me breaking his brand new brother,” Nyx pointed out. “I’m pretty sure I would be on gate duty for life if you got hurt. And that’s if he didn’t come for my head!” 

“He wouldn’t-” Oriens stopped and sighed. This was ridiculous. “I can warp, remember?” 

“Ya? Cause I haven’t _seen_ you warp. Or use any of your magic at all,” Nyx said. He caught Oriens’ nearly imperceptible wince at his words. Oriens had purposefully been using his magic as little as possible. Calling on it pulled uncomfortably at both the wound in his chest and his connection to the Crystal. It made it too easy to lose himself to the incessant chatter of the Lucii and the hole left by the part of him that was dead. 

Voice gentle, Nyx continued, “You’re still healing, Oriens. Nothing wrong with that, but I think you need some more time.” 

“Fine, whatever Hero,” Oriens huffed. He was so _tired_ of being held back from everything. The worst part is that they were right. He couldn’t hold his own at the moment. He was still stiff and sore and weak and he couldn’t get a handle on his magic. Oriens ran a hand through his hair, and he was still thrown, for a moment, by how much longer it had gotten after his stint in the Crystal- and that wasn’t even dealing with the beard. He shook his hands out as he started back towards what had become his little corner to practice in. 

Reaching out, Nyx caught Oriens by the elbow. “Hey- are you allowed to leave the Citadel?” 

“What?” Oriens asked back, surprised by the sudden question. 

“Are you allowed to leave the Citadel? You’ve been cooped up either there or here this whole time, haven’t you? You’ve got to be going a little stir crazy. Why don’t we skip warp practice today and go out into the city? You always look like you could use a good meal in you anyways, and I know some places,” Nyx explained. 

When Oriens just blinked at him in response to the offer, Nyx got a little nervous. Rubbed at the base of his neck, Nyx started to backtrack a little. “I mean, if you want to? We can invite some of the others too like Libs or Crowe. It doesn’t have to just be us or anything. Just- you know- you’ve been in the city for weeks now and you should get the chance to learn it. This is your home too.” 

“I- yes? I mean, I can leave. I should let someone know I’m going out, I guess, but I can leave. That sounds-” 

It sounded hard. It sounded hard to go out and see the Insomnia that he knew but remembered burning. It sounded great to go out and see life and remember that Insomnia was there and standing. It sounded good to go out and have the chance to actually talk to people. Already he was spending too much time alone again, the behavior safe and familiar. He didn’t have Ignis or Gladio or Prompto to ground him anymore and being alone risked drifting and losing his grip on this time. And he knew that his point of getting in good with the Glaives was to keep an eye on them, but he also so desperately just wanted… he just wanted to be near people again. And this was Nyx asking- the other was _safe_. 

“-it sounds good, Nyx. Let’s do that.” 

Nyx let out the breath he had been holding, glad that he hadn’t just misstepped with Oriens. The other was a little odd about some things, but Nyx genuinely enjoyed the time around him. “Good. Let’s go see who we can round up to go with us. I’m there will be a few- Libs at least is always hungry.” 

Clapping Oriens on the shoulder with a brief squeeze, Nyx strode off to where he spotted Crowe lounging with Pelna, talking over something. 

“Hey, _Hero,_ ” she teased when he got close and he rolled his eyes at the name. Since Oriens had started hanging around the Grounds more, others had caught onto the nickname and started using it- sometimes a bit too gleefully. 

“Crowe. We’re going to call things short and go get some food. You two want to join us?” 

“I can do that- I’m done for the day. Libs is still on duty, though. Pelna?” she asked the wiry man next to her. 

Pelna had to look at his watch but gave a nod. “Sure, I don’t have my turn on comms till this evening, so I’ve got time. No drinking though. Where do we want to go?” 

“Good question. What you up for, Oriens?” Nyx asked, turning to try and include the other into the conversation. Oriens had stopped short of the group, hanging back a little. 

“I don’t know? I mean, I haven’t been out in the city much?” Oriens lied. He figured that considering the Insomnia he knew was years older that maybe the lie was for the best. 

“Alright then… ever had Galahdian food?” 

“Only some kebabs. Not sure how authentic they were,” Oriens said with a shrug. Lestrallum had probably added a bit of their own flair onto the food, after all. 

“Did you like them at least?” 

“Ya, sure. They were spice meat, what’s not to like?” Oriens asked with a shrug. 

“Home district it is then!” Pelna said, hopping up off the bench and clapping his hands together. “Come on, Your Highness, let’s show you some proper Galahdian delights.” 

“Sure- but you all really have to drop the whole ‘Your Highness’ thing, please?” 

“No can do, Captain’s orders! We’ve got to be all respectful and shit,” Pelna said with a shake of his head. “Come on- food awaits!” 

The look on Oriens’ face as he watched Pelna charge off made Nyx chuckle. “You get used to him- mostly. I promise not to let him be… too him.” 

“I- sure, what can it hurt,” Oriens said, giving in with another shrug. While Nyx grabbed his things from the locker room, Oriens pulled out his phone and sent off a text to Cor that he was going out into the city, but that he would be with Nyx and some other Glaives. Tucking the phone back into his pocket, he fell in line behind Crowe and Nyx as they headed off. 

Nyx had half a mind to pull Oriens up to walk up beside them, but let it go for the moment. Whatever was up with this particular Lucis Caelum, he certainly was on the more reserved side. That reserved nature seemed to swing from a watchful sort of quiet to a detached sort of quiet, and Nyx hoped that at the moment it was more the former. He didn’t need to have avoided breaking Oriens with warping practice only to break him in a different way. 

Once they were out onto the streets, Nyx slowed down so that Oriens automatically caught up to them. Pelna was rushing ahead less by that point and Crowe, observant as always, matched her pace with Nyx’s. With Crowe on one side and Nyx on the other, they served as a sort of subtle honor guard with Pelna in the lead as they made their way to the subway entrance. Oriens seemed to fold into himself a little at the crowd of people pouring in and out of the opening. 

It wasn’t rush hour, at least, and it was easy to double swipe a card to get them all through the turnstile and onto a train headed in the right direction. There were two train changes before they were on the small line that made its way out to the Galahadian district. The older trains were put into service on that line, and the track rattled loudly through the rickety metal. 

For most of the ride, Oriens stayed quiet. Underground, he watched the Glaives chat and laugh and nudge each other. When the lines emerged above ground, he watched the city go by instead. The trains had never been a mode of transport he often took, not with the concerns for security, but he’d ridden a few times with Prompto. It was still an experience to watch the city wiz past- especially since the last time he’d really seen the city it had been in ruins and flames. 

The trip to the Galahdian district took longer than he expected, but he could tell almost instantly when they entered it. The train passed from underground to one of the raised tracks and immediately there was color everywhere. Murals were painted or in the process of being painted on the sides of buildings. Fantastically colored animals and plants loomed larger than life off the concrete and bricks. Colorful curtains hung in the windows, adding motion and life as they were blown by fans or box ACs and brightened up the old, drab buildings. Even the people here wore more brightly colored fashion than most of the rest of Insomnia, who always seemed determined to fit in with the royal black. 

The predominant color of the stop that they got out at seemed to be in the red tones- warm rusts and crimsons and fiery oranges. The intense color matched with the smell of spices that overwhelmed the area. It was so strong that Oriens had to stifle a sneeze as he followed the Glaives out of the train and onto the platform. He shivered a little at the chill in the wind as the train rushed away towards its next stop. 

“You good?” Nyx asked, keeping his voice carefully low. 

“Ya, just should’ve brought a jacket. I forgot it was fall I guess?” Oriens said, hoping that it didn’t sound too weird to have forgotten what season it was. 

“You do look cold. Want mine?” Nyx offered, already starting to shrug out of his leather jacket. 

“Six, no, I’m not taking your jacket, Nyx. It’s not your fault I didn’t think to bring one,” Oriens said, taking a step back from the other. He started as he bumped against someone behind him, and spun to find himself face to face with Crowe. When she reached out to rest her hands on his cheeks with a light smack he nearly jumped. 

“Mmhum, no, you’re freezing, what the hell? Do royals not produce heat or something?” Crowe asked with a little frown. “Nyx, give him your jacket.” 

“I’m giving, I’m giving,” Nyx said, laughter lacing through his tone as he finished shrugging it off and holding it out to Oriens. He raised one brow at Oriens as the other just stood there and gave the jacket a little shake. Giving in with a huff of air, Oriens took the jacket and slipped it on. 

Nyx let his eyes run over the other for a second. “See- now you’re warm _and_ it looks good on you.” 

“Okay, everyone’s warm now, great. Can we get food, please?” Pelna wined and motioned to the bustling street below them. 

Laughing, Nyx flung an arm around Pelna’s neck and ruffled at the squawking man’s hair. “Come on, we’d better go before this one starts chewing on one of us! Your pick then, Pelna- but somewhere that won’t kill His Highness over here.” 

“You make this sound so appealing, Nyx,” Oriens grumbled, but the corner of his mouth was just barely pulled up into a little smile as he followed the group down the stairs and onto the street. The noise was more intense, at ground level as vendors and shopkeepers vied for the attention of the shoppers, but the smell was lessened. Oriens supposed it must drift up with the rushing of the trains. 

Pelna led them purposefully off in a direction and Oriens stuck closer to Nyx’s side than he had before. Even having never been one for people, it was surprisingly overwhelming to be on the street. Ten years of being isolated with no one but himself, a god, and his dead relatives would do that, he supposed, but he wasn’t fond of the development. He really didn’t need to be even worse at people. 

Nyx reached over a few times to put an arm around Oriens’ shoulder or waist, tugging the other close as they moved through a tight spot or a gaggle of kids rushed past or there was some pile of goods that needed to be avoided. Oriens ducked his head the first few times, but then just gave in and let it happen without reaction. Nyx looking out for him like that gave Oriens more time to take in the area around them instead of worrying about the crowds. 

“It’s nice, ya? Different from the rest of Insomnia. I mean, you might not know that I guess. And, okay, maybe it doesn’t look like much yet really, but-” 

“It’s great, Nyx. The colors are really nice,” Oriens said, feeling stupid for such a basic reply. The words didn’t even begin to cover what the district felt like. 

“The colors are family colors and trade colors,” Crowe explained from where she still flanked Oriens other side. “This area has a lot of food- so spices and butchers and grocers and things like that. That’s all in the red colors. The other colors you see means they sell something else or it’s a home. Usually your personal color has something to do with what your family does for a living, but not everyone sticks with that. Things like that are harder now- lots of people are taking any work they can find.” 

“So like Lucian Black but, you know, with actual color?” Oriens asked. 

“Something like that,” Crowe agreed, Nyx also gave a little hum of agreement in response. “I guess I never thought of it like that though. Everyone here has one, it’s not like we’re any royals.” 

“What are your colors?” 

“Well, Ulric here is purple coming from a hunter line,” Crowe said, motioning to the man. “I’m in Lib’s family now, and ours is red. Did you know he used to own a bar? Nyx worked at it with him. And Pelna, the traitor, has yellow.” 

“Hey!” the man in question said, turning around to walk backwards so that he could face them and level Crowe with a pout. Oriens was impressed he didn’t run into anything. 

“So what does yellow mean?” Oriens asked, holding back the amusement from his tone. 

“It means he’s a story keeper- aka a big ol’ nerd,” Crow said, smirking at Pelna. She gave a laugh and dashed off from Oriens’ side as Pelna charged her. They disappeared into the crowd, only to run back past again in a moment. Crowe was still laughing and Pelna was still hot on her heels. 

“They’ll tire, eventually,” Nyx said fondly, and kept him and Oriens walking with a light arm around the other’s waist. He was pretty sure he knew what their destination would be- Pelna had his favorites after all. 

Curious, Oriens asked, “So, is being a story keeper a bad thing?” 

“Naw. Well, I mean, there’s old rivalries and things. They could get looked down on sometimes way back when, since they tended to stay safe in the villages and not hunt,, but people knew even then that they were important. See, stories are special to us- they pass on knowledge and our ways of life. We have stories to teach us how to hunt or what’s safe to eat or tell us great feats our ancestors did. If you listen to the Elders go on, maybe people don’t respect those things as much here in Insomnia, but they were going on about that with young people even before we came here. I think they’re still important to us. So Pelna’s roll is an special one, which is exactly why Crowe gives him hell for it.” 

Oriens gave a slow nod, thinking about the teasing that Gladio would get about his role as Shield, even as everyone looked up to him for it. “Hum, ya, seems about right. So, if I wanted to know something about Galahd, Pelna’s the man to go to?” 

“Would you?” Nyx asked before he thought better of it. 

“Would I what?” 

“Would you really want to know more about Galahd,” Nyx clarified. He felt oddly invested in the answer. It shouldn’t matter if Oriens cared about Galahd and its people, it’s not like anyone else did. 

“I would, ya. I just need to think about where to start.” 

“Start what?” Crowe asked, breathlessly, as she slammed into them, swinging an arm around both their shoulders to come to a stop. Nyx tried not to grin at the blush that was suddenly on Oriens’ cheeks. 

“Start hearing some of our stories. That means you’re up, Pelna!” Nyx called at the other man as he made his way back to them. Pelna flicked Crowe on the ear as he passed back up to the front of the group. “Story time over dinner has been ordered, so you better deliver for our esteemed guest here.” 

“Story time, huh? Alright, I’ll think of a good one to start with,” Pelna said. He stopped them in front of a door that was a few different shades of flaking orange and red from constant repainting. The smell of warm spices and cooking meat wafted out to greet them as they piled up the small staircase and into the restaurant. 

The light was muted, blocked in part by the monorail track that ran outside, and the sunbeam hung in the faint smoke that drifted through the restaurant. Pelna nudged them over to a table near the windows, and they settled into the mismatched, wooden chairs. Oriens’ fingers tapped against the scuffed blue paint on the back of his chair as he twisted around to read the chalkboard menu. 

“So,” Nyx rumbled next to him, “What looks good?” 

“I have no clue what most of that even is,” Oriens admitted after a pause, getting a laugh for his honesty. 

“Okay, okay, any foods you don’t like?” Nyx tried instead, hiding a grin behind his hand. 

“Vegetables.” 

“Vegetables? You can’t just… not like all vegetables.” 

‘Watch me,” Oriens said with such vitriol that it made Nyx laugh again. 

“Okay, no vegetables for His Highness. Alright if I just order for you then? This sort of food is best handled just ordering a lot for the table and everyone sharing anyways.” 

“I- sure. I’m good with that,” he said, turning back around to face the table where Pelna and Crowe were already arguing about how much food was too much. Nyx joined in heartily and, after a few minutes, got up to put in their order. 

“Now!” Pelna said, cutting into the ensuing silence with a clap of his hands, startling Oriens’ attention back to the table and away from watching Nyx lean up against the counter and talk to the chef. “You wanted a story, right? How about a classic fable. Ever hear of ‘The Rabbit and the Storm’?” 

Pelna grinned as Oriens shook his head. “Good. It will be a surprise then. So… there once was a young rabbit- just old enough to leave his mother’s burrow…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve ended up having a real soft spot for this chapter, so I hope that all of you enjoyed it! Despite all the angst I may throw at you all, writing soft, everyday moments and world building really is my bread and butter. And I enjoyed trying to flesh out little Galahd (canon be damned, they can’t even keep Galahd in the same local). That said…
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **Next Chapter:**  
>  Oriens nearly stumbled when he realized he had been happy at dinner. He had sat there and had a meal with three others and hadn’t missed his brothers at all. Shaking, Oriens fumbled to sit down on the couch, barely making it onto the edge before he legs gave out. How could he- how dare he do that? He was the only one who remembered them the way that they had been. If he started to forget them, they wouldn’t exist anymore. If he forgot, his brothers- who had given anything for him time and time and time again- would just disappear. 
> 
> He couldn’t let that happen.


	8. Just Advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains dealing with the fall out of time travel- aka angst warning.

Dinner out with Nyx, Crowe, and Pelna had been _nice._ The food had been different but delicious. Even if he couldn’t handle the spices of some of the food, everything he could eat had been warm, rich, and filling. Listening to Pelna’s tale- with the occasional interruptions from the other two- had been enjoyable. It was clear to see that the three were easy friends. 

It had _hurt_ to see the three be easy friends. 

There was a moment there, in that spice scented restaurant, when Oriens had felt alright. He had felt like he had belonged in the here and the now. A few days later was when it all came crashing down. 

Oriens nearly stumbled when he realized he had been _happy_ at dinner. He had sat there and had a meal with three others and hadn’t missed his brothers at all. Shaking, Oriens fumbled to sit down on the couch, barely making it onto the edge before he legs gave out. How could he- how dare he do that? He was the only one who remembered them the way that they had been. If he started to forget them, they wouldn’t exist anymore. If he forgot, his brothers- who had given anything for him time and time and time again- would just disappear. 

He couldn’t let that happen. 

Pushing himself up, Oriens rushed to the wardrobe, pulled out a duffel bag he’d gotten for carting clothing to training, and stuffed a few things in it. Oriens strode out of his rooms and headed down to Cor’s office. Guards fell in behind him, though thankfully neither were Nyx as the other was out on a small mission. He didn’t know if he could face Nyx right then. Oriens knocked on the open door to the office, slipped in, closed the door behind him when Cor looked up from a pile of paperwork. 

Cor glanced from Oriens, to the duffel in his hands, and then back up again. The stoic man raised a brow that, in Cor speak, very clearly translated to ‘and just what the fuck are you planing?’. Being fluent in Cor, Oriens answered the unasked question, “Just wanted to get out from under the Wall for a few days. I’m… going a little stir crazy, I guess? And I want to refill my elemental supply so I can start training with them again.” 

Cor hummed. 

“Ya, I know there are supplies here, but fresh is better. And I’ll only be gone for a few days I figure- just up to a haven in Duscae that I know about,” Oriens said. When Cor’s other brow rose to join the first (‘oh really, that’s all?’ the doubtful expression said), Oriens continued. “And maybe there’s a royal arm in the area, but I don’t know if I’ll go for it. It’s just one that we never made it to and it’s not even dangerous to get- it’s literally just a walk in the woods. I’ll keep my phone on me the whole time. So, can I borrow a car now?” 

Oriens managed to resist squirming under the heavy look Cor leveled on him and was rewarded by the other reaching for a form and filling out the requisition for a Crownsguard car. When Oriens went to take it, Cor leveled him with one more look. 

“I know, Regis will have a fit if I get hurt. I promise to be careful. Thanks Cor, really,” Oriens said, quickly, before making his escape. Outside the office, he stopped and eyed his guards. “So- you’re relieved of duty or whatever. Cor can confirm it.” 

Oriens took the chance to leave while they asked (he wasn’t sure if he really _could_ leave them behind), and quickly headed down a level to stop by the supply closet. His status let him easily borrow a bed roll and a few ration packs without needing any special orders. He was grateful, though, for the form for the car as it got the motorcade to hand over the keys with no questions asked. 

It felt a little like betraying the Regalia as he slipped behind the wheel of the standard issue Crownsguard car. Everything about it felt just slightly wrong: the windows were too dark, the seat too firm, and the wheel just a little too stiff in his hands as he turned onto the freeway out of the city. Still, it was good to be leaving Insomnia in the rearview mirror again, even if he would have rather had the Regalia with its top down and filled with company. 

He’d been so young last time he had left Insomnia like this. It felt, now, like lifetimes had passed- which he supposed in a way that they had, what with his time in the Crystal. Driving somewhat on autopilot, Oriens let the road into Lied stretch out in front of him as he thought back to that fateful day. He had been so stupid, looking back on it, for not realizing everything that his dad had been trying to say to him on those steps. Not telling his dad that he loved him had always been the first on the long list of regrets that had built up after Insomnia’s fall. 

Now, everything had a chance to be different, and Oriens was determined to go down the list and resolve as much of it as he could. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get to everything- some of it was impossible now that he was in this time, but he could do everything in his power to at least make it a better time for everyone. He would do everything possible to protect them. He’d done so poorly at protecting people in his time. Biting on his lip, Oriens reminded himself harshly to focus on the road. 

Blowing past Hammerhead, he didn’t stop till he was in Duscae. He took a moment, at the station right across the border, to fill up the tank and grab a few snacks- the type of food Iggy would have frowned at in disapproval and Prompto would have cheered over. Rest stop finished, he continued on the rest of the way to Fallaughns Haven. 

When he got there, Oriens pulled the car off to the side of the road, parking it in the packed dirt between the start of the trail and the chain link fence. After he had pulled out the supplies from the trunk and made sure the car was locked, he continued down the winding trail on foot. It was the crackling of the lighting deposit that reached him first, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up on end. Next came the slight smell of brimstone from the fire deposit. He trudged past both sets of jagged rocks and up onto the main formation of the haven. 

A sigh escaped Oriens as the feeling of being on a haven surrounded him. The havens had always called to his core, but with each covenant he had gained the call became louder. After his time in the Crystal, the havens practically sung to him. He dropped the bedroll to the rock and took a deep breath, taking in the sharp smell of pine and rich undertones of damp earth. It was peaceful there, more so without the looming shadow of Perpetouss Keep in the distance. The only structure currently in its place was a radio tower and a small, concrete bunker that Oriens could barely see from this distance. Oriens turned his back to it and hopped off the haven to hunt around for firewood. 

It was a bit of a search to find pieces that were dry enough, but the sun was only just starting to set by the time he had a fire roaring and a meal pack cooking. He kept the bedroll bundled, using it as a seat to eat on, and, when he was full, he stretched out next to it. 

It felt good to be out under the stars again, looking up at the sky through the canopy of the trees. The flat rock of the haven was still warm from the long set sun. If it wasn’t for the silence, it would have been easy to imagine he was still with his brothers- out on that road trip where everything was so hard and yet so right. 

“I don’t… fuck. I don’t know if you guys still exist out there somewhere. Shiva seems to think not- that this is a thing where I’ve rewritten time and that existence has disappeared and you’re… just gone and only left in my head. Or maybe she’s wrong and it’s a split world thing and you’re still out there. Iggy would have thoughts on it, I’m sure. Prom, you’d just argue about the movies you’d seen about time travel just to rile Ignis up,” Oriens said with a wet chuckle. “If you’re out there… Gods, if you are, I hope the dawn reached you too and that you all got to see the light again. And if you’re not… you’ll always be here with me. You all were the only reason that I was able to walk tall that day. I couldn’t have done it- any of it- without you. I own you all everything and now-” 

Palms pressed against his eyes, Oriens swallowed hard to try and keep back the tears. “And now I don’t know what to do. Luna told me to live, but how is that fair? How come I get to and she doesn’t? That you all don’t? Why do I get this chance? Is it just because I’m Bahamut’s favorite? Well fuck Bahamut! I won’t even get to see you all in the Beyond now! I’m stuck here and you _aren’t here!_ There’s just these other yous and they aren’t- they’re… not mine to have and… shit.” 

Sitting up, Oriens curled over his knees, fingers knotting in his hair. “What am I supposed to do? Just try and forget about you all? Just let myself move on and pretend that I can have a normal life and that I’m not just this person fucked up by the gods who time traveled? How do I do that?! 

“Fuck… Gladio would tell me to get over myself. That I’m here now and that work isn’t done- that I’ve got to stop sulking and start moving, asshole,” Oriens said with a shattered laugh. “You’d like the Glaives though, I think at least. You’d say that training with them is good for me. You’d keep me going forward. Iggy… you’d have all sorts of advice. You’d take all the ways to look at things and strategize through them and you’d lay them all out clearly in a color coded spreadsheet over dinner. Fuck, I miss you so much. You were always my guide post. Gladio pushed me to move, but you showed me where to head towards. And Prom, Six, Prom. You kept me living. You were so much my Heart. I think… I think you’d be telling me I’ve gotta keep trying to live- that I need to let myself make new friends and try to be happy. It’s just so hard Prom. I don’t… I don’t know if I can walk tall anymore, guys. I’m just so tired.” 

Oriens wiped at his eyes with a shuddering breath, gathering himself. “But… I’ll try. For you three I would do anything, and I know you’d never forgive me if I gave up. So, I’ll keep trying to walk tall, like you would want. And I’ll _never_ forget you. You’re my brothers, always.” 

Blinking away his tears enough to look up at the sky, Oriens gave himself a moment to just hurt for everything he’d lost. And then he took a deep breath and stuffed it all away into the place in his heart he’d carved out just for them. 

* * *

In the morning, Oriens pushed past stiff muscles and the ache in his soul and got to work. He hadn’t lied to Cor that he wanted to get his hands on a deposit. Sliding down the edge of the haven, Oriens dropped next to the fire deposit. He circled the jagged rocks that shimmered with red slowly, trying to work himself up to the act. This was just absorbing the elements, Oriens reminded himself. It wasn’t even _really_ using magic, there were machines that could do this. The haven was right there. 

Oriens squared his shoulders, set his feet firmly where the rocks met the dirt and decaying leaves, and reached out his left hand towards the deposit. With a twist of his wrist, the sparks of fire started to pull away from the veins in the rock and into Oriens’ core. With a few moments of that draw, his core should have been satisfied, but now it demanded more and more and more- an endless hunger for power that terrified him. Oriens started to stumble back from the deposit, but his hand was locked in place reaching out towards the rocks and pulling on the power deeper and deeper into Eos. 

With a shout, Oriens grabbed his wrist with his right hand and _pulled_. In the back of his mind there was the sensation of something bursting as he snapped his hand away, sparks flying between his palm and the rocks as the connection was ripped apart. The embers of pure fire hit the rocky floor and scattered across the stone and into the underbrush of the forest. For every few sparks that hit damp ground and fizzled out, another landed in drier underbrush and caught. Instantly, leaves and grass and flowers went up in fire as the fire spread with a speed that only magically imbued flames could. 

Cursing, Oriens jumped back on the rocks and scrambled mentally for his Armiger. It felt like digging through glass as he reached into the pocket of space for an ice flask. As soon as his fingers connected with it, he yanked the bottle out and threw it at the flames. It was a scramble to race up the edge of the haven to escape the swirl of ice. 

Shaking from the cold, Oriens sat down heavily on the edge of the haven and frowned at the scorched and frosted patch of earth that now surrounded that edge of the rocks. He flexed his right hand, hissing at the pain that lanced through it. The skin along his knuckles was ashy and grey, split with fissures of purple. It was like he had been using the Ring, not simply reaching into his Armiger. As he shook his hand out, the effect faded. Oriens wasn’t sure what was happening, but he _was_ determined to get some answers. 

“Time to talk with some dead people,” Oriens muttered to himself. Pushing off the rocks of the haven, he crunched through frost and ash and headed to the car. His connection to the Lucii was weaker out here with the distance from the Crystal, but he knew a sure fire way to fix that. He hadn’t lied to Cor about the Royal Arm either. 

Pulling the car back out onto the road, Oriens headed west, continuing to pass the Disc, and taking a left at Coernix Station, heading away from it. Prompto had wanted to stop at the station once for a photo-op by the Craig, Oriens remembered. He’d said no- that they didn’t have the time. They had to keep moving, going, pushing- he wished he had said yes. What had a few minutes really mattered in the end? It was that rush to get to the next goal that had also made them miss the Royal Arm. By the time they had learned of it, they were almost ready to cross the sea and there just never seemed to be the time to go back for it. Everything had been about moving forward, until suddenly it wasn’t. 

It wasn’t far past a large farm that he was pulling off to the right into the frankly decrepit parking lot at Thommel's Glade. He parked in one of the spots under the bent metal awning. There was one other car in the lot and he hoped that he could avoid whoever it was. He didn’t really need to announce that he was in the area. 

The start of the path was almost overgrown by thigh high grass and debris, but as soon as he was on the trail, he could already see the Royal Tomb looming in the distance past the park’s sign. It always felt a little bit of a shame how the tombs had been left to decay, but it was also fitting, Oriens figured, with how his family had turned their backs on this land. The path ended before the hill that the temple sat on, and Oriens made his way through the brush and up through the gates to the dais of the main temple. 

Same as always, the stone woman with an iron sword watched over the carved door, looking to the sky. Praising Bahamut likely, Oriens thought with a disdainful snort. He turned his back to her, scanning the area for signs of whoever had come in the other car. When he couldn’t see anyone, he made his way down the steps. 

Very carefully, Oriens reached into the Armiger for the key. It still felt like moving through shattered glass, but he was able to be slower about it, and less of the ashy grey covered his skin by the time he held the key in his hand. He unlocked the ancient door and pushed it open just enough to slip inside. 

The sliver of sunlight barely illuminated the tomb enough to see, the light just making it to spill over the sarcophagus and the large, narrow shield that rested on it. Oriens circled the plinth, taking in the details of the Shield of the Just. The stone shield bearers on the sides of the tomb watched him silently. He came to stop with his back towards the statue of the tall woman at the rear of the temple. Taking a deep breath in, Oriens reached out and laid his hand on the shield. 

Instantly, magic rippled through the shield and it went crystalline. The light it shown with splashed across the tomb, bringing out the details of the stone figures and Oriens into sharp contrast. The shield rose and spun to face him, hanging in the air for a long moment before it tilted and rushed down to slam the bottom edge into his chest. 

Oriens was lifted off his feet by the impact, the shield exploding into a shower of sparks as time seemed to freeze for a moment. Stumbling, Oriens took a step back and found that he was looking at himself. It was like the after images of warping, but instead the figure left behind was solid and _he_ was the blue form. 

“Who comes as a King, already bearing all our power, to claim this shield of mine?” 

Oriens spun to face the hulking, blue form of the armored Just Queen. She towered above him in the way that all Lucii did and seemed wider still with the massive, wasp nest like pauldrons on her shoulders. Impassive, the helmed face turned down to look at him. 

“What is going on? It’s never happened like this before,” Oriens said instead of answering, motioning to where his body hung frozen in the air. 

“Before you have not come to us as the King of Kings. Before you have not come to us, closed off to the power that we offer,” she said, voice echoing in a way that he could feel in his core. 

“Closed off? I’ve been _trying,_ but my magic isn’t right anymore,” Oriens tried to explain, scowling. “I’m not closed off- it’s not coming to me.” 

The queen stepped forward and armor pieces shed from her form as she walked, dropping away with a shimmer until stepping out of the husk of metal was a woman no taller than him. He could see Regis in the shape of her nose and himself in the way her eyes crinkled as she smiled. She was dressed in full, royal finery, and the cape of raiment spilled over her shoulder as she reached out to rest her hand against his cheek. 

“King of Kings… you cannot fear yourself. You have been changed and with it your magic. But you do not accept this. You fight against what you have become.” 

Oriens opened his mouth to protest that before he stopped himself. Closing his eyes, he leaned just slightly into her hand. The Just- the queen who strived for peace and for her people- perhaps of all the Lucii she was the right one to judge him. Quietly, he voiced his fear, “What if the only thing I’ve become is a monster?” 

“Why do you think that, King?” 

“I have power no human should. I killed the Adagium. I’ve killed… so many. I wasn’t supposed to live and maybe I shouldn’t of-” 

He was cut off sharply by the Queen pulling him forward so that she could kiss his forehead. Pulling back, she sought his eyes, her gaze earnest. “Little King… I know your heart. Here in this moment my shield- the essence of my soul- pierces it. This is not the heart of a monster. You must accept what you have become. While you may no longer be a simple man, you are no monster either. Let go of the things that bind you.” 

The queen’s hands slid down from his cheeks to rest over his heart, blue sparking between them in a way that almost made Oriens want to scream. “Let go of the pain that ties you. You must do this, or you shall forever fight your magic. Forgive yourself, King.” 

“I don’t know if I can.” 

“You can, you have the heart of a King.” 

Oriens ducked his head, huffing out a breath as she stepped back from him. He looked her over again, taking in her features. “Why do you all never take your human forms like this when you come to me? It’s much easier to talk this way.” 

“Because you are never near our bodies, King. And we have forgotten some of who we are, with enough years gone,” she turned to look at her grave. “It is… nice, though.” 

“Maybe… you can remember now?” 

“Maybe, King. We will see, if we meet again. Go back now,” she commanded, her voice echoing through the room. 

Everything snapped suddenly back into place with a crack, and Oriens slammed into the floor of the tomb. The air was knocked out of him from the impact. The last light from the shattering shield faded, and Oriens was left laying on the ground. The sliver of sunlight from the open door spilled over him, and his body screamed in pain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I never made it to the Shield of the Just or the photo-op at the Craig in my own play through, woops? It made it easy, though, for me to get the reference I needed for this chapter! 
> 
> I made myself tear up a bit with the chapter when I first wrote it, but I am weak so hopefully you all made it through alright! I promise some good comfort in the next chapter to make up for it. (I did my rewrite while migrained, so I apologize if it’s not up to the normal quality!)
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **Next Chapter:**  
>  “Six, Hero, down boy,” Oriens said, weakly batting Nyx’s hand away as the other tried to pull up his shirt. Oriens’ eyes were open now and Nyx stared back into the vibrant blue that was slightly blown out with pain. “That’s what the Royal Arms do. It’s sort of their thing- the whole… chest stabbing. I just had… a bit of an adverse reaction this time. Calm down.”
> 
> “Calm down he says, he was only stabbed by a fucking magical weapon, he says. You fucking Lucis Caelums and your fucking magic,” Nyx gripped, pushing Oriens’ hands away. He was even more worried by how easily the other gave up and let him lift up the black tee.


End file.
